Just Watch Me
by Anubis Enfield
Summary: Sherlock wanted her to be more... aware of him. He was used to people doing something, anything, around him. But Jess… She believed he was probably just like anybody else in the world and that's what made Sherlock angry, because he was not like everyone else. She'll realize that I am different. I am not like them. I am someone interesting. OC/Irene, OC/Sherlock
1. Chapter 1

**Wondered what Sherlock would do with someone who honestly didn't care about his detective skills. Figured his reaction would be hilarious.**

* * *

Sherlock stomped down the stairs of his flat, having just finished unpacking most of his belongings in 221B. He was currently on his way to catch a cab, but paused when he heard loud music and someone singing in 221C. _It's not Mrs. Hudson, the voice is too young and the song is American._ Glancing at the door, Sherlock debated on whether he should investigate or continue on his way. Deciding rather quickly, he turned towards the other flat and walked towards the open door, the voice becoming clearer as he peeked in.

"Maybe I should cry for help. Maybe I should kill myself. Blame it on my A.D.D. baby. Maybe I'm a different breed. Maybe I'm not listening. So blame it on my A.D.D. baby."

Watching the figure from the door, he began to silently analyze them. _A woman it seems, judging from what curves I can see. Youngish, late twenties. Black hair, sort but with a long pony tail in the back. Definitely different. She wanted it short but someone close wanted it otherwise. A mother perhaps. Isn't making a whole lot of money, judging from the state of her clothes and an artist, as the paint under her fingernails and the calluses show. Still in a rebellious phase, what with the multiple piercing in her ears and the peeking of a tattoo just below her neck. Ah, in a relationship as well. There's a light bruise on her neck. Clearly American, but why would she be here? I see. Sharing a flat with her boyfriend, combined with the obvious showing of her rebellion, she was probably running from home. Had an argument with her parents, most likely about her wanting to become an artist, thus from a richer family who wanted her to do something else._

The woman still had not taken notice of him as she sat on a ladder, patching a hole in the ceiling. As the song coming from the radio on the floor finished, Sherlock decided to make his presence known.

"I assume Mrs. Hudson hired you to do repairs on this flat?"

The woman jumped, very nearly falling off the ladder as she caught the falling container full of plaster.

"Bloody hell! What's your problem?! Don't you know not to freak out a person when they're working on a ladder?!"

Sherlock was surprised at the fluent British accent, having expected an American one, but quickly sobered up as the woman climbed down and looked up to inspect her work.

"You have a British accent." He blurted out and she gave him a look.

"Rightly so, I would think. What with living in Britain an' all."

"But you're American."

She hardly looked surprised. "I may have been born there, but I've lived most of my life here. And, just so you know, Mrs. Hudson _did_ ask me to help with fixing up this flat. I'm guessing you're the bloke up in 221B she told me about. Sherlock, right?"

"Yes. Sherlock Holmes."

She nodded. "I'd shake your hand and all, but I don't think you'd want to be covered in plaster. I'm Jess Huttner, if you're wondering."

She started moving the ladder to another portion that needed plastering, and climbed up to do that as well.

"Your father's a lawyer."

Jess nodded, not really caring for the bland conversation, being more focused on her work. "Sure is. Now shouldn't you be going? You were on your way somewhere, judging by the looks of things."

He raised a brow. _Perhaps she's more interesting than I thought._ "How do you figure that?"

"You've got your coat on and I doubt you would come down here purposely. You probably heard me earlier and decided on a whim to come check it out. After all, we don't know each other and there's no other reason to be down here in this musty place."

Sherlock stood there for a minute, when a phone went off and Jess groaned.

"Again?" She muttered and pulled out a phone, that looked like it had been through hell and back. "Hello?"

Sherlock decided that it would be best to leave now or he wouldn't get what he needed done, done. So he silently left, leaving Jess to argue with—what he assumed was her boyfriend—on the phone. _Hm, blunt, but quite sharp. Like a dull blade. She may be interesting, should we meet again. Although she's quite easy to figure out. Not much of a challenge._ With those thoughts, he headed out, lifting up the collar on his coat and hailing a cab as his thoughts shifted to John Watson. _He's certainly more interesting._

* * *

After the Sherlock guy left and I finished my phone call, I sighed. I still had a lot of work ahead of me as far as the flat goes and I didn't really care for him. _He just acted like he knew everything and that kind of ticked me off. Although, I could say the same for myself. I was being a bit rude, but with everything that's going on, it's understandable. For him though, that just seems like that's the way he acts._ I paused in my work and glanced around the flat. The place was a mess, although it was certainly better than it was before I came.

The dampness was bad enough that it got into the walls and ceiling, which was why I was patching it up now. Whole chunks of the place had to be removed and replaced and I still needed to re-tile the bathroom and kitchen, fix the plumbing, refurbish the entire kitchen, install new windows in the living room and the bedroom, as well as either paint, or repaper the walls. _That part's up to Mrs. Hudson though. She gets to choose everything, but I get to put it up. At least I'm getting paid._ With renewed vigor, I finished patching up this hole and climbed down from the ladder to make sure I did it properly. With a nod, I heard someone walking towards the room and turned to see Mrs. Hudson with a tray of sandwiches and a cup of tea.

"How are you doing, dear? You've been at it for hours."

I gave her a smile. "Well, I've pretty much finished the ceiling and I just need to work on the walls, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The windows should be here by tomorrow and I just need to know what you wish for me to do about the walls."

"Oh, just do what's best for you. You've done quite a number on this place and it's much better than before. I'm sure whatever choices you pick for the walls will be beautiful."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I was actually thinking of painting them a light shade of blue in the kitchen, dark green in the bedroom, and an off-white in here. Does that sound okay? You're the landlady, after all."

She gave me a smile. "My dear, that's perfect. I brought you some lunch as well. Although, it's well after noon at this point."

"That's fine Mr. Hudson. Thank you. I could have gotten something myself though. You didn't have to go out of your way."

"No, no. It's fine. It's the least I can do since you're fixing up the place for so little."

I took the tray from her and set it on my lap as I sat on a short stool.

"It should be all finished in a few days though. Although, depending on how long it takes for the kitchen appliances to get here, it may take a bit longer."

"That's fine." She waved off. "I'm sure the boys won't mind a bit of noise."

I paused mid-bite. "'Boys'? As in two? You only mentioned Sherlock."

"Yes, well, he seemed to have found a flat mate. Dr. John Watson. Such a nice fellow. I'm surprised you didn't hear them come up."

I shrugged, taking a sip of my tea. "Probably just too absorbed in my work."

She nodded and gave me a curious look. "You do get that way. Would you like to go up and meet them? You might want to get acquainted with them since you'll be here the next few days. That way they can help you."

"I don't need help, Mrs. Hudson."

She gave me a concerned glance and I sighed, getting up and handing her the empty tray as I carried my cup and saucer.

"I suppose I could introduce myself though, so they don't think I'm trying to break in or anything."

She smiled. "That's good, deary. Come along. I'll introduce you to them."

I followed her, with my tea, up the stairs and into 221B where I was met with a bunch of clutter scattered around the room. I wrinkled my nose up in distaste, but quickly dropped it and sipped at my tea as I glanced at the two men in the flat.

The one, was the man I had met earlier; Sherlock Holmes. The other though, was a shorter man who sat in a chair holding a cane. _How odd. Him being injured but wanting a flat upstairs. Unless it's not a physical injury, but who am I to tell._ Sherlock quickly took notice of me and Mrs. Hudson, when she announced her arrival.

"What do you think then, Dr. Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

I smirked in my tea as to what she was insinuating.

"Of course we'll be needing two." He said, a bit confused.

"Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts 'round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got _married ones_." She quickly stopped whispering and gave me a glance with a smile attached. "No offense though, Jess."

I shook my head. "None taken, Mrs. Hudson."

John and Sherlock both gave us a look of confusion.

"Ah, this is Jess Huttner. She'll be working on the flat downstairs for a while and I expect you two to help her out should she need it. You too, Sherlock."

John got up and took a step forward, as Sherlock scoffed and Mrs. Hudson moved into the kitchen. Holding out his hand, John gave me a small smile.

"Nice to meet you, Jess. I'm Dr. John Watson."

I shook his hand. "As Mrs. Hudson said, Jess Huttner."

"Um, sorry but, what did Mrs. Hudson mean earlier?"

"Hm? I assume she thought you two were gay." I said, taking another sip of the drink in my hand.

"No! Not that!… I meant, when she spoke to you."

"Oh. I'm bi."

He went a few shades paler and I ignored him, taking more pleasure in Sherlock's surprised face.

"U-Um, well—I see. T-That's good. I-I mean… right. I'm just going to shut up now." John put a hand to his head and returned to his seat.

"That might be best, John." Sherlock replied, having quickly gotten over his shock.

I scoffed. "Says you. You were in just as much shock as he was."

He glared at me and I ignored him, while John went to try and diffuse the situation.

"I looked you up on the internet last night, Sherlock."

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock said, focusing his attention on John.

"Found your website, The Science of Deduction."

"What did you think?"

 _He seems almost proud. Pft._

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airplane pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone." He looked towards me with a smirk, obviously showing off. "I can tell a lot about you as well, Ms. Huttner."

"Is that so?" I said calmly. I personally didn't care what he could figure out about me. I'm pretty much an open book and nothing he could say would really surprise me. Nothing about myself was hidden.

"I can tell you're still in your rebellious phase and have a tattoo just below your neck." He gestured to his own neck and I waited as he went on. "You're sharing a flat with your lover and are searching for a better paying job while you fix up 221C. You're a painter, which is probably why your parents most likely disowned you, since they wanted you to be a lawyer like your father. And possibly also for the fact that you're bisexual. Your hair is short, but you kept the long pony tail in the back because someone close to you wanted you to have long hair, either your mother or you lover. And it is also very likely that you have ADHD or some form of it as well as the fact that you're currently in a depression and haven't eaten much lately."

"Is that all?" I said boredly, setting my tea cup down on the table.

He seemed surprised that his analysis had no reaction from me, and also a bit disappointed.

"…Yes."

"Good, because you're wrong."

He raised a brow. "Wrong? About what?"

"A good lot of it, actually."

"Really?"

Even John seemed a bit surprised.

I nodded. "Yup. For one thing, I don't have ADHD. I have dyslexia. I'm not in a rebellious phase, I just didn't change my look after it. And while I _do_ have a tattoo below my neck, I also have one on my back and arm." I announced, lifting my sleeve to show a simple tattoo of an 'X' on my upper arm with two black bands wrapping around my arm underneath it. "I do share my flat, but it's not with my lover, it's with my girlfriend. I prefer you don't use that term, as it's degrading and makes her seem like a sex object. My parents _did_ disown me, but it was only after I left the states and it wasn't because I wanted to become a painter, it was because I didn't want to become a lawyer."

"It's the same thing."

"No. It's not. And as far as being bisexual, they don't know about it. My hair was just a style that I picked up and thought I'd like and, while I do paint as a hobby, I am actually a novelist and am currently between jobs at the moment until I am ready to start a new book. The only reason I haven't been eating much lately is because I am working on the flat and easily fall into my work, thus forgetting the time and missing meals. _Not_ because of depression. Did I miss anything?"

John had a grin on his face and Sherlock looked pretty upset, but it was true. While he had gotten the gist of things right, it was the small details he had missed. _Which is odd, because, as I said before, I am pretty easy to read. Maybe that's why he screwed up. I was so easy to read that he begun to fabricate mystery into my life without realizing it. Everything he said about me before sounded like a dramatic soap opera._

"So you write novels?" John asked, and I turned to him.

"Yeah. I go under a pseudonym though. Michael Doyle."

John snapped his fingers. "'Secret of the Beasts'!"

"Yup. Also did 'Silent Detective' and 'The Abomination'. I'm surprised people even like the stuff."

"What are you talking about?! You works are amazing!"

I shrugged nonchalantly. _I personally don't think they are that great, but people have their own opinions._ Just then, Mrs. Hudson walked out from the kitchen holding a newspaper.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought they'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four." Sherlock said as he moved the curtain to look down onto the street below. "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."

I didn't quite know what was going on, but from what I remember from Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock is in the police business. _Must be a case or something then. I best be on my way though. I got a lot of work ahead of me._

"Mrs. Hudson?" I called out to catch her attention. "I'll be heading back on down. I want to try and finish the walls in the bedroom today."

She nodded. "Oh yes. Best be on your way then. Remember to lock up before you leave."

I gave a short wave and nodded at John as I headed out and passed a man on the stairs. It didn't take long though, before the man left and not far behind him, Sherlock went as well. The odd thing was, Sherlock stopped just before leaving and turned around, sneaking back up to the flat. I shook my head and went back to getting my stuff ready to do the walls. Next thing I know, Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson all come down the stairs.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." John called.

"Both of you?"

Sherlock, from what I could see from the doorway of 221C, had stopped and turned around. "Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"

I rolled my eyes as Sherlock grabbed Mrs. Hudson by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs. Hudson mildly scolded.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"

With that, the two of them left and I walked out of the room behind Mrs. Hudson, holding a container of plaster that I was in the process of mixing.

"He always do that? Pop off all excited?"

She nodded. "Yes. That's Sherlock for you. He really likes those cases. The really tough ones."

"Huh. Well, off I go. Got to get that wall all plastered up."

"Have fun dear."

I chuckled. "Ha. Hard to have fun fixing a wall, but I'll try Mrs. Hudson."

* * *

A few days later, one could find me sighing in exhaustion as I pulled my keys out of my pocket and put them in the lock for my flat. Mrs. Hudson had insisted that I head home and come back tomorrow to finish up the walls and re-tiling, and she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I had just stopped by a take-out place to get some dinner since my girlfriend should have eaten already, and I was just setting my food down when I heard scuffling coming from our bedroom.

I shook my head, blowing it off as her trying to do late night yoga again between study sessions and sat down to eat. I got my fork maybe a few centimeters from my mouth, when I heard something that most definitely did not sound like late night yoga.

"Angel?" I called out loud enough that she should be able to hear me.

Now, normally I would've told her I was home already, but she told me yesterday that she would be staying up late today to study for upcoming exams. So I expected her to be studying already but, judging by the groans, she was _not_ studying. Every step I took seemed to cause another piece of my heart to crack and fall off. I knew what was going on before I even reached out for the door handle. Angel, _my_ Angel, was cheating on me.

I opened the door to find her sprawled out on the bed with a man hovering over her. Almost immediately, his eyes caught mine and he stopped, alerting her to me as well. She shoved the man off her a bit and rolled her eyes.

"Great. We got caught."

I didn't know what to say. My mind, having never been this blank before, seemed to be over processing everything. The sweat on their bodies, the muscles in the man's back, the crinkles of the sheets and blankets on the ground, the smell of sex. Everything seemed to be amplified ten fold and I suddenly felt my heart plummeting into my stomach as I turned and left the room.

My vision was tunneled and my breathing ragged as my brain began working again and firing questions at me over and over. _Why? What did I do? I thought we were fine. Was I not enough for her? Just…what did I do wrong? I love her, don't I? Is that it? She doesn't love me? Did she ever love me?_

"Jess." Her voice echoed in my ears and I looked up from my feet, where I had been staring for the past ten minutes.

She was dressed now, at least partially. She was wearing my dark blue robe to cover herself and I felt disgusted knowing that she was wearing something of mine right after what she was doing.

"How long?"

She sighed and dropped her head a bit. "I've been meeting up with Chris for a little over a month. Don't know why you're so surprised."

My heart clenched as another piece fell off.

"' _Why_ '?"

"Yeah. What with you being so damn smart and all."

I grit my teeth and clenched my fists in anger and frustration. "I _loved_ you."

"I did too, Jess. I just needed something more, you know?"

"Something I didn't have." I muttered, hands balling into fists. My anger was coming up now and with Angel's temper also rising, I doubted I'd be leaving without getting hit at least once.

"Hey man. Calm down. Get over it, will you?" Chris said, having come out of the bedroom finally, zipping up his pants.

"Get over it?"

"Yeah. It's your own fault for not takin' care of her. Heh, after all, a woman can't give another woman this kind of pleasure." He smirked, but it was quickly gone when my fist collided with his face.

"Chris!" Angel shouted, as Chris fell to the floor in shock. "Get out of my flat, Jess! Get out!" She shouted, both of us having finally lost it.

Chris got up, a hand to his swelling jaw. "The hell, man!"

I ignored him and turned to Angel "Get out?! I pay the bills!"

"But I own it!" She shouted in return.

Suddenly, I was knocked back by Chris, who had gotten up off the floor and punched me hard across the jaw. As I fell back into the kitchen, Chris straddled me and began to try and attack me further, but I struggled and managed to flip our positions for a moment, the whole while, Angel calling both our names in an attempt to stop our brawl. Finally, she managed to grab a hold of Chris and pull him off me, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

"Get out, Jess! Or I'll call the police!"

I sat up, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "Fine! The hell with you then!"

With that, the door was slammed shut as I walked out and I closed my eyes painfully, heading out onto the street. I didn't really have anywhere to go. Angel had been my only real friend and, since I had graduated early, I didn't have any school friends I could stay with. The only person I even knew around here would be Mrs. Hudson. Getting up, I checked my pockets to see if I had enough cash to hail a cab and managed to grab one to drive me over to Baker Street. _Let's hope she'll let me in. I have nowhere else to go._

I could feel my body throbbing with every block and when I finally did arrive, I only hoped Mrs. Hudson would be willing to let me stay here for a while. I knocked on the front door and waited, hearing Mrs. Hudson call out from inside.

"Hold on a minute!"

I waited and soon, the door opened and she looked out at me with a smile, only to grow concerned when she saw what kind of shape I was in.

"Oh dear. Come inside, Jess. I'll make you a nice cuppa."

I nodded weakly and followed her inside her flat, silent as she made me some tea.

"Do you want some ice for you face?"

I nodded and she went to the icebox and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, handing them to me to put on my bruised cheek. She then poured some tea into a couple of cups and sat down next to me, laying a comforting hand on my right leg.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I swallowed thickly. "My girlfriend broke up with me."

She squeezed my leg. "It's alright, Jess. Every woman gets upset at times. It's okay."

I shook my head. "It's not okay, Mrs. Hudson! I don't have anywhere to go… I pay for the bills, but it's still her place and she kicked me out! Threatened to call the police on me! She was with a guy! They were… I walked in when they were…"

I immediately grit my teeth as a single tear fell down my face. Mrs. Hudson pulled me into a hug, petting my head as though she was my own mother and even then, my mother never treated me like this. After a while, I pulled away from her and gave her a small smile.

"Sorry Mrs. Hudson. I didn't mean to throw all my problems out on you."

She smiled in return. "It's fine, dear. Now, what's this about not having a place to stay?"

"Right… Actually, I was hoping you could help me with that."

"Jess, you can stay here as long as you need to. Free of charge." She said with a wink.

"I-I can't do that!"

"Don't bother arguing, Jess. You've been fixing up that basement flat for a while now, and for half the price too. The least I could do would be let you stay in it."

"But free of charge? I can't do that!"

"Nonsense. How about this, you can stay free of charge but the moment you find a job, I'll start charging you rent. Hm? Does that work for you?"

I looked down at the cup of tea in my hands thinking for a moment before nodding. "Alright, Mrs. Hudson. I can live with that."

She nodded, just as there were more knocks on the front door.

"Oh dear. I wonder who it is now."

I stood up. "Do you want me to get it?"

"If you would, dear. I need to clean up a bit anyway."

I nodded and walked over to the front door, opening it to find a group of police officers standing outside; all of which flinched upon sight of me. _What's going on? I hope they're not here for me._

"Can I, uh, help you?"

One of them stepped forward and I recognized him as the man who came earlier to speak with Sherlock.

"Yes, actually. We need access to Sherlock's flat. Is Mrs. Hudson there?"

"Well, yeah, but she's busy and Sherlock isn't here. So you can't just break into his flat, last time I checked."

He frowned. "Actually, we can. I'm from Scotland Yard." He flashed his badge, probably expecting me to give in right away, but I didn't.

"And? You still need a warrant unless you have the land lady's or home owner's permission."

He grit his teeth in frustration and shouted into the flat. "Mrs. Hudson!"

I rolled my eyes, replacing the bag of peas to my bruised cheek as Mrs. Hudson scrambled to join me in the doorway.

"Yes? Oh, how are you Lestrade? Is something the matter? Sherlock's not home right now."

"He wants permission to go in Sherlock's flat." I said, looking down at the woman. "I already told him he needs a warrant, but if you let him then he can basically go through anything that's lying out. Although, he would have to explain _why_ he is doing the search as well. You have the right to refuse though, then they have to leave until they come back with a warrant."

I looked back up at him as he stared at me in surprise and annoyance.

"You—Who are you?"

"Jess Huttner. I went to law school and graduated a year early, if that's what you're actually wondering." I said boredly.

His eyes widened as he heard my last name, but Mrs. Hudson cut him off before he could say anything about it.

"So what's this about?"

"Oh, uh, we were actually going to do a drugs bust on him." Lestrade said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving me weary glances. "I also have reason to believe that he may or may not have taken some evidence from our most recent case."

"In other words, nothing definite, Mrs. Hudson. It's your decision though. I'm going to see what I can grab from your storage room as far as sleeping arrangements go."

I gave her a small smile and popped back down the hall until I came across the storage room where, as Mrs. Hudson had mentioned to me before, everything her previous tenants left behind was at. The moment I opened the door though, I discovered that there wasn't a whole lot to work with. I pulled out a couple of bar stools and chairs that I could use and then moved on to a single couch that was propped up against the adjacent wall.

It was not too bad as far as dirt goes, and once I had it dragged out into the hall, I smiled to myself. It was a nice, simple grey couch and the cushions weren't torn or anything, so it would work and it gave me something to sleep on for the next couple of days until I could purchase a bed. With a heave ho, I managed to get it into 221C along with my chairs and stools, before I collapsed on it with a groan. I really wanted to just stay there and fall asleep, but I could hear the police officers upstairs and I was worried about how Mrs. Hudson was taking it.

Getting off my comfortable couch, I snatched my melting peas and stuck them in the icebox for now, before going to hurry up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson stood in the doorway of 221B shaking a bit as she watched the officers begin going through Sherlock's things. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, I gave her a small smile, careful of my aching face.

"Mrs. Hudson? Why don't you go wait for Sherlock downstairs? I'll keep an eye on the officers to make sure they aren't doing anything out of their jurisdiction."

"Alright, deary. I'll bring the boys up as soon as they get here."

I nodded and turned when I heard a clatter from the kitchen. Frowning, I walked over and began yelling at the officer. "Hey! Any damages and I'll be suing you guys for the cost!"

The officer glared at me and was about to yell back, but Lestrade cut him off before he could.

"Do as she says, boys! I'd rather not have to deal with a lawsuit over something like this."

They grumbled, but were more careful about what they were messing with and I sat down across from Lestrade with a sigh.

"So a drugs bust?" I muttered. "Didn't see Sherlock as the type, but then again, I suppose anyone could be."

"Yeah, well… How do you know him?" Lestrade asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I don't. I've been working for Mrs. Hudson and fixing up the basement flat. The only reason I'm even here now is because she offered to let me stay there since I don't have a place to stay anymore."

"Domestic?" He questioned, with a raised brow.

I winced. "You could say that."

Just then, I heard voices downstairs. I glanced at the door and pulled a hand through my hair.

"Sherlock's home." I muttered.

"How do you know?"

I held up a three fingers and began counting down as steps were suddenly heard pounding up the stairs. Sherlock, as I predicted, was now standing in the doorway looking a bit out of breath. _Must have been running around before he got here. I wonder how John's doing, what with his supposed injury._

"What are you doing?" Sherlock growled, all attention on Lestrade.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid."

I noticed John and Mrs. Hudson following up behind him as Sherlock and Lestrade went on.

"You can't just break into my flat."

"You can't withhold evidence… and I didn't break in."

"He's right about that." I piped in, catching Sherlock's and John's attention. "According to the law, he can't legally break in without the land lady or your permission. Mrs. Hudson agreed to let him in."

Sherlock glared at me as I stood from my seat and brushed myself off.

"Well, what do you call this then?" He questioned with a snarl and I shrugged.

"He said it was a drugs bust. The only reason I'm up here is because I was keeping an eye on them to make sure they didn't break any laws."

"Seriously?" John questioned. "This guy—a junkie? Have you met him?"

"John." Sherlock said, walking over next to John and looking displeased.

 _Ah, so he has done drugs before. Lestrade must've caught him a few times and that's how he knows._

"You could probably search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

"John, you probably want to shut up now."

John turned his head to Sherlock in disbelief and anger. "But come on… no…"

"What?"

"You—"

"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped at him and I sighed, patting John on the shoulder as Sherlock went off to snap at the officers.

"It's alright John. We all have domestics sooner or later."

John gave me a look and winced when he caught sight of my face. "Is that what happened to you?"

"…You could say that." I said, before walking downstairs with Mrs. Hudson in tow. "Looks like tonight's going to be a bit long. Will you be okay with all the noise, Mrs. Hudson?"

She nodded. "Yes. It's never very quiet around here. I like to think I'm used to it by now."

Just then, the doorbell went off and I sighed once more. "I'll get it Mrs. Hudson."

"No need. You pop off to bed now. It's been a rough day for you I'm sure."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson, but I think I'll take a bit of a walk first. To get my mind off things."

"Whatever works for you, dear." She said, answering the door where a cabbie stood and told her something.

Ignoring the two of them, I started to head out the door, before turning back and walking back inside. Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I gave Mrs. Hudson a small smile.

"Could I, uh, borrow some money for the cab and a drink or two? I promise to pay you back."

She smiled back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet before giving me some money. "Here you go. Just don't be too late. Breakfast is at ten o'clock sharp."

I nodded and headed out with a thanks, bumping into the cabbie accidentally.

"Oh, sorry about that. You okay?"

He seemed a bit surprised, but gave me a small smile as well. "I'll be fine. Enjoy your night."

I nodded. "Yeah. You too."

He tipped his hat and pulled out a strangely _pink_ phone. Shaking it out of my thoughts, I hailed another cab and was off towards my favorite place to relax. The bar wasn't far from Baker Street, but it was a bit too close to Angel's place and my thoughts roamed to her as I sipped at my whiskey. _I don't know why I even went out with her anymore._

With the numerous drinks starting to get to me, I headed home a few hours later and caught another cab back to Baker Street. Something must have been going on too, since there were a ton of police cars going the opposite direction. Leaning forward to catch the cabbie's attention, I pointed out the window as another police car passed.

"You know what's goin' on?" I muttered, trying to appear as sober as possible.

The cabbie shrugged. "No clue. Could be they found that serial killer that's been on the loose. He already has four victims from what I heard. I wouldn't be surprised if that detective guy caught him already."

"Detective guy?" I questioned as we pulled up in front of Baker Street.

"Yeah. That Sherlock Holmes fellow. He's been solvin' cases left and right, I hear."

I nodded and paid the man, before stumbling out of the cab and heading up the short amount of stairs to the door. I started looking for my key and frowned as I went through my pockets. Finding it, I had a difficult time getting it into the lock before I finally opened the door, not noticing another cab pulling up behind me.

"Jess?"

I turned around and wobbled for a minute before my eyes focused on John and Sherlock coming up behind me. Pointing at Sherlock, I smiled a bit.

"Heh, I heard about you."

He raised a brow. "Did you now?"

I nodded, placing a hand on the door frame to steady myself. "Yup. The cabbie man said you were solving the serial killer case. Making all them police drive around with their sirens."

I started to slide down the wall, but John came over and held me up.

"Whoa there. You okay, Jess?"

I groaned, placing a hand to my head. "The sirens are too loud."

He sighed and straightened me up a bit, slinging my arm across his shoulders. "Well, then. You're obviously drunk. Tell me your address so I can take you home."

"2." I mumbled.

"2?"

"221C… Baker Street."

John shook his head. "No, Jess. That's the flat you're fixing up. Where do you _live_?"

"Nowhere." I said. "I pay the bills… but she kicked me out."

John turned to Sherlock. "Do have any idea what she's going on about?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, stepping past us as he removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack.

"Isn't it obvious? She had a domestic. Her lover kicked her out. Mrs. Hudson is most likely letting her stay in 221C for now. Really, John, it's basic deduction."

John rolled his eyes as well, and made his way to my flat.

"Jess. I need the keys."

I fumbled, but handed him the keys before he opened the door and brought me in. He paused and looked around, but frowned at the lack of furniture and torn up kitchen tiling.

"You're living _here_?"

I nodded. "For now…" Suddenly, I stood up straight and pointed at the couch, no longer being held up by John. "To the couch!"

With that, I stumbled over and promptly fell face first onto the couch and was out like a light. John shook his head with a chuckle before disappearing and returning with a blanket, which he used to cover me up.

"Goodnight, Jess." He replied, closing the door on his way out, and leaving me to sleep fitfully on the couch. _Angel…_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ugh, I drank too much last night._ I scrunched up my brows and continued to do the tiling in the kitchen while battling the headache pounding away in my head. Unfortunately for me, this was rather hard to do while working. I was just lucky Mrs. Hudson had thought to bring by some aspirin with my breakfast this morning. What's more, Sherlock seemed to be doing some rough housing upstairs and the noise from that was upsetting my head even more. Finally, I had had enough. I set down my tools and stomped my way up the stairs to confront him. After all, no one else was going to. John had left to go grocery shopping and Mrs. Hudson had gone to the sandwich shop next door for a date. _I just want some peace and quiet today._

Having reached his door, I bypassed the courtesy of knocking and simply walked in to find Sherlock looking rather proud at the fact that there was some stranger in a turban knocked unconscious in one of his chairs. I stood there a moment, simply in shock, before Sherlock turned around and took notice of me.

"Ah, perfect. Would you mind helping me a second?"

I opened my mouth to respond, a finger pointed at the body, but he cut me off before I could respond.

"Of course you wouldn't. Now grab a hold of his ankles."

Sherlock went over and began heaving the man up off the couch, soon realizing that I wasn't helping.

"Well, come on then! He's not going to move himself."

I sighed, not in the mood to have an argument with him, and reluctantly grabbed his ankles to help Sherlock move him. We carried the body down the stairs and Sherlock, surprisingly, hailed a cab. I was shocked how he somehow managed to get one on his first try, but even more so that one would just accept the fact that we were carrying a body. It made sense though, once I thought about it; helping Sherlock sit the man up in the cab. _He probably looks like some drunkard that we're shipping home after a rough night. Although, I still question what Sherlock was doing with him earlier._

Sherlock paid the cab and began to head inside, apparently forgetting I was there with him. I groaned and went inside myself, but whereas Sherlock went back upstairs, I simply headed back to my own flat.

"You're welcome." I muttered to myself, getting back to work.

Mrs. Hudson returned not long afterwards, looking pleased. _Must've hit it off well then._ And thankfully brought me some lunch as well. I was starved and hardly noticed it until she forced a sandwich upon me. Maybe fifteen minutes after she arrived, the windows and kitchen appliances arrived for my flat also. So I quickly helped the workers begin to unpack them when John returned home as well.

"Oh, hey Jess. Do you need any help?" He questioned, looking between me and the door, as though debating on whether he really wanted to offer his help after all.

"I'll be fine." I said. "The other workers are helping me move everything in… Have a row with someone? You look a bit tense."

He let out a sigh. "Yeah. Believe it or not, I had a row with the chip and pin machine."

I smirked, lifting up the box containing the microwave with ease. "Might I suggest staying away from the self-service lines in the supermarket next time?"

He raised a brow, walking beside me as I headed in. "How'd you know?"

"Mrs. Hudson told me you left to go grocery shopping and you had a row with a chip and pin machine. It's not hard to put together."

He chuckled, connecting the dots. "I suppose you're right." His smile soon dropped though. "Best get up to Sherlock then. Who knows what he's done to the flat since I've been gone."

I nodded. "That'd be best. Make sure nothing's broken. He was doing something with some guy earlier."

"Right." John sighed and gave me a short wave before heading upstairs.

Adjusting the microwave in my arms, I went into my own flat and dropped it off in the kitchen with the rest of the goods, before turning to the two workers who had just finished bringing in the windows.

"Thanks for helping me out. I'm guessing there's paperwork?"

One of the guys nodded and grabbed a clipboard from off the box holding the dishwasher, before coming over to me.

"Sign here and here, then we'll be on our way."

I quickly signed and let the two take their leave, glad that they helped, but even more glad that my headache was finally going away. Rolling up the sleeves on my light blue plaid over-shirt, I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Time to get to work."

* * *

John walked into his flat and took a look around, inspecting for any sort of damages that Jess said to look out for. _Looks as though he never moved, but Jess mentioned someone being up here. If there was, there's no sign of him._

"You took your time." Sherlock said, not even looking up from his book.

"Yeah. I didn't get the shopping."

"What? Why not?" He finally glanced up.

"Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and pin machine." John grumbled, more embarrassed to be telling Sherlock than Jess. _At least Jess won't make some stupid comment._

"Y-You had a row with a machine."

"Sort of. It sat there while I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?"

"Take my card." Sherlock gestured to the kitchen.

John headed in, before turning around and stopping. "You could always go yourself. You've been sitting there all morning and haven't even moved since I left. Although Jess mentioned something about some guy being here, but there's no sign of anything."

Sherlock zoned out for a moment, remembering Jess helping him take the body out to the cab. _She obviously doesn't do well at keeping secrets._ He thought.

"And what happened about that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond."

Sherlock closed his book. "Not interested." He then used his foot to slip a saber further under his chair. "I've sent them a message."

"So Jess was right then." John muttered, running his fingers over a scratch on the table.

"Hm?"

"She told me to check for damages. Seems I'm not the only one who had a row." John grumbled, before grabbing the card and heading out once more to do the grocery shopping.

The moment he heard the front door close, Sherlock hurried down the stairs and to 221C. The door was already opened so he simply waltzed right in.

"Jess! Jess Huttner!"

There was a loud 'thud' and a curse from the kitchen and Sherlock walked in to find Jess sitting up and rubbing her head in front of the sink she had been installing.

"Blood hell, what's your problem Sherlock?"

"What did you tell John?" Sherlock said, getting straight to the point.

"You'd think you'd have a bit of courtesy seeing as I helped you drag that guy down the stairs no questions asked." She grumbled, but Sherlock could care less about her whining.

"Answer the question."

She stopped rubbing her head and sighed. "If you really want to know, I only said that he should check for damages because you were doing something rowdy with that guy from earlier. I just assumed that he should know what kind of mess his flat mate was getting into."

Sherlock stared at her, searching for any lie in her statement, as she stared back evenly. He normally found his stare intimidated people, but Jess didn't seem to be backing down and stared back with such intensity, that Sherlock silently wondered if her stare bothered people as well. Finally, he broke away and turned around to head back into his own flat. Jess didn't seem to care and silently, Sherlock wanted her to be more… aware of him.

He was used to people doing something, anything, around him. Even Donovan was someone who—although he despised her—he considered entertaining. If only because it was amusing to watch her get upset when he pointed out something. She was jealous of him whereas John was more… surprised. John was very open about what he thought of Sherlock's deduction abilities and Sherlock enjoyed that little stroke of his ego. But Jess… She was different.

She didn't seem to care about Sherlock at all. To her, he didn't seem interesting or intimidating. To her, he was probably just like anybody else in the world and that's what made Sherlock tick. Because he was _not_ like everyone else. He was better. At least, he thought so. _Jess is just too_ … _dull._ He decided. _She doesn't care because she hasn't seen what I can do. Maybe, if I can get her interested, she'll change. She'll realize that I am different. I am not like everyone else. I am someone interesting._

Having been thinking this over for a while, he hardly noticed the set of footsteps coming up the stairs. John had returned with his groceries, so Sherlock grabbed John's laptop and pretended that he had been surfing the web the whole time.

"Don't worry about me, I can manage." Said John.

Sherlock began checking his email as John set the groceries on the table and came into the living room.

"Is that my computer?"

"Of course." Sherlock replied, beginning to type a response to an email. "Mine's in the bedroom."

"What? And you couldn't be bothered to get up?"

Sherlock was silent.

"It's password protected." John said, changing the subject.

"In a matter of speaking. It took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox."

John quickly went over and shut his laptop. "Right, Thank you."

John took the laptop and went to sit down in his usual chair, setting the machine beside him on the floor. Sherlock, simply put his hands back into their previous steeple position as John began flipping through the mail.

"Oh." He said, finding some bills in the mess of papers. "Need to get a job."

Sherlock groaned. "Ugh, dull."

The flat went into silence and John leaned forward on his chair, in an attempt to make conversation.

"Listen, um… If you'd be able to lend me some… Sherlock, are you listening?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment and just when John was going to assume he wasn't listening, Sherlock spoke.

"I need to go to the bank."

Swiftly, he got up from his chair and John sighed before following the man out the door. Unexpectedly, Sherlock went into Jess's flat and John trailed behind him confused.

"I thought we were going to the bank?"

"We are. I just thought we should pick someone up before we go."

John raised a brow. "Jess? What would you need Jess for?"

Sherlock didn't answer and instead went into Jess's kitchen and stood there, knowing she had heard him come in.

"Do you need something?" She said from her place under the sink. "I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"No you're not. You just finished and you're simply hiding down there right now in an attempt to get me to leave and make me _think_ you're busy."

Jess sighed and came out from under the sink, her hair soaked in water. "Yeah, and? I was busy and still am. I need to install the dishwasher and the windows still. Not to mention finish the tiling. Now what do you want?"

"Uh," John cut in. "Why are you wet?"

She gave him a bored glance. "Because I forgot to turn off the water."

"O-Oh." John went quiet again and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"A simple mistake, really. And I want you to come with us."

Jess gave him a look. "And you're not even going to tell me where you're trying to take me? If I didn't know any better, Sherlock, I'd think you were purposely trying to get me intrigued about you." Jess suddenly smirked. "In most places, that's called flirting."

Sherlock frowned while John snorted.

"You know she's right."

"John, shut up." Sherlock growled with a glare, before turning back to Jess. "I'm _not_ flirting. I simply want you to come with us."

Jess sighed, dropping her smirk and looked around the kitchen at the half done remodeling.

"I seriously don't think I can. I still have all this work to do and—"

She was cut off as a phone began ringing, well, screaming was more like it. Jess immediately frowned and answered her cell phone.

"What."

John raised a brow at her tone, but Sherlock already knew who it was. _Probably her ex calling her._

"Today?! I told you in a week!" She shouted, fist tightening around her phone. "I don't give a damn if you are moving in with Chris! The bill is still paid off until the end of this month and you're just going to waste—" She was obviously cut off by the person on the other line and she got up off the kitchen floor, holding a hand to her head as her headache grew worse. "Well, where the hell am I supposed to put all my stuff?! I have—No! I already said it's paid off! How would you know anyway?! _I_ paid the bill!"

John was a bit surprised at Jess's attitude, but felt bad for her. He knew what it was like to deal with someone like that. His own sister was a good example. Sherlock, however, was growing more and more frustrated with Jess and was very close to just taking the phone from her and hanging up on her ex.

"Fine! I'll pick it all up now just…" Jess sighed, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll be there in a little bit, Angel. Bye."

She put her phone away and glanced up at Sherlock and John, who had followed her out of the kitchen.

"Sorry guys, but I really can't go now. My ex just gave me the next few hours to go pick up all my stuff, so—"

"Just buy new furniture. You're coming with us."

"Sherlock!" John said, but Jess was in no mood to deal with Sherlock's haughtiness at the moment.

She quickly stepped towards Sherlock, grabbed his lapel with a clenched fist and pulled him down the few inches to her level.

"Listen. I'm in no mood to deal with you right now and I also have to go deal with my stupid cheating ex and, most likely, her newest catch. I have a headache from my last encounter with them and there's no way in _hell_ you are going to force me to leave any of my things and make me come with you on your stupid little trip. Now I suggest you take a hint you mindless git and back off before I give you a nice bruise to match mine."

Sherlock glared back, only slightly surprised at Jess's confrontation, and opened his mouth to respond.

* * *

I flexed my aching fist as I sat at a red light in a truck I rented, smiling slightly to myself. It was nice to let out a bit of stress, but even more so, to let it out on Sherlock's face. My grin grew wider as I remembered the shocked look on his face after he'd insulted me and I had knocked him to the ground. _Ah, that was nice._ My smile dropped as I pulled up in front of Angel's place. _Now I just have to get through the next couple of hours without punching anyone else in the face._

Parking in the front and walking up to the door, I unlocked it with my key, which I was going to return as soon as I was done, and greeted Angel with a frown as she cuddled up next to Chris on the couch.

"Oh, hello, Jess." She greeted, waving a hand towards our—her room. "Go ahead and get your things. Don't mind Chris and I."

Chris, in particular, smirked before kissing Angel passionately. I grit my teeth, but walked past them to begin gathering my things. Once my articles of clothing and personal items had been gathered, I came back up to begin the argument that I knew was going to happen when I asked for my furniture as well. Of course, Chris and Angel had been getting more and more intimate as I took my things out of her flat and I would have to interrupt that as well.

"Angel." I half-growled, trying to keep myself from knocking out Chris as he got up off her from their position on the couch. _My_ couch. _I think I may just let them keep it. Who knows how many times they've shagged on my poor couch._

"Hm? Are you done already?"

"No. I want my furniture as well."

She raised a brow, sitting up and allowing Chris to wrap his arm around her shoulder and fiddle absentmindedly with her bra strap.

" _Your_ furniture?"

I nodded. "Yes. I want the kitchen chairs and table, the armchair, and the couch."

She immediately frowned at that. "They aren't yours. We bought them together."

"No, we shopped for them together, but _I_ was the one who bought them and I would like them back."

"They're mine, Jess."

"Angel, I'd rather not argue about this. I just want my furniture and I will even let you keep the damn couch."

"Look, _Jess_." Chris began, but I set him a scathing glare.

"I suggest you stay out of it, _Chris_. This is between the two of us."

He snarled and started to get up, but Angel held onto his arm, tugging him lightly back onto the couch.

"You can take the armchair, but the rest is mine."

"But I paid for all of it! I said I'd let you keep the couch!"

I was beginning to get frustrated now and wondered how well I could control my anger when my headache was back ten fold and Angel was pressing the issue on the table and chairs.

"And I never said I _wouldn't_ take the couch, but I want the table and chairs."

"And what are you going to do with them?! You're moving in with _him!_ " I shouted, pointing a finger at Chris.

She ignored my anger and shrugged. "I don't know, sell them maybe?"

 _That's it._ I stood up and went straight for the kitchen, determined to take back what was mine.

"What are you doing?!" Angel shouted after me, standing up with Chris.

"What's it look like? I'm taking my chairs and table." I grabbed the chairs easily and left the building to put them in the back of the truck.

Angel had followed me about halfway down the stairs, but I was already heading back up to get the armchair and table.

"You can't take them!"

I ignored her, easily shoving past her and back up to the flat and grabbing the armchair. It was a bit more difficult to get down the stairs, but I somehow managed with adrenaline pumping through my system and went back up to grab the last thing, the table. Unfortunately, Angel was there blocking my path back into the apartment with Chris glaring at me from behind her.

"Move."

"No. I won't let you have it."

"Angel."

"I won't!"

Giving up on being even a little bit nice, I grabbed her and shoved her into Chris before taking the table and heading down the stairs. They had both followed me, but I had already closed and locked the back of the truck, so there was no way they could get my things out of it.

"Give them back!" Angel cried, but I could tell that the tears were over-exaggerated now that there were witnesses watching. _You'd think people would learn to mind their own business._

"I already told you, I paid for them, so they are rightfully mine. If you want to take me to court, go right ahead." I muttered.

"That's not fair!"

I rolled my eyes. She knew right off the bat that I was the daughter of a famous lawyer and that I had gone to law school. _"That's why I like you_ " she had said. _"You've got the brains, the looks, and the passion. Better than any man I've ever known."_ I pulled out the keys to the truck, but Angel had other plans and grabbed the keys from me.

"Angel." I sighed. I was tired of playing games with her.

"No! I hate you, Jess! I hate you!"

I took a few steps forward and swiftly grabbed the hand that my keys were in, only for her to slap me hard on the cheek, where I had been hit the previous day. That seemed to be the trigger and I growled, ripping the keys from her grip and pulling back a hand to hit her as well, only to get tackled from the side. Chris had made his reappearance.

We fought tooth and nail, but because there were bystanders gathered around us, someone had eventually called the police and we were pulled apart, spitting blood from our mouths. The two of us were placed in handcuffs and shoved up against a couple of squad cars, but Angel managed to somehow talk the police out of arresting Chris. The odds were stacked against me, what with her and the bystanders agreeing that I had caused the fight, and I was soon forced into the back of the police car and read my rights.

 _My parents are going to be pissed._ I thought, as I watched the scenery pass by on the way down to the Yard. Once we were there, I was yanked from the squad car and brought to an interrogation room to be quickly questioned. It couldn't have gone by slower and, once I had made my phone call to Mrs. Hudson, I was sent to go wait in a cell. Hours went by and I winced occasionally as I shifted, finally feeling the aches and pains brought on by the fight I had earlier. _Mrs. Hudson is taking far longer than I thought._ I sighed and leaned my head back against the cold wall when I distinctly heard footsteps heading this way. Opening an eye to see who it was, I was a bit surprised to find, not Mrs. Hudson, but Sherlock and John with the officer as he unlocked the cell.

"Well isn't this surprising." I muttered, getting up off the floor and heading towards the open cell door.

"My God, Jess." John said, noticing the way I half-limped to them. "Are you okay?"

I raised a brow at him. "Do I look okay?"

"W-Well, no."

"Okay then. Thanks for paying bail and I'll pay you guys back as soon as I find another job."

I started to walk off by myself, when Sherlock called out after me.

"Where are you going?"

I turned around and gave him a look. "Hm, I don't know, maybe to go pick up the truck that has my things in it, that is still sitting in front of my ex's flat. After that? I'm thinking I might hit the bar again. Maybe find something interesting to get my mind off of the obvious pain I'm in. Later."

I gave a short wave and headed out the front doors and hailed a cab. The moment I went to climb in the back though, a strong hand gripped my arm and pulled me away from the cab. _Seriously? Can't you just leave me alone for one day?_ I glared up at Sherlock's equally angered face, smirking just slightly at the bruise on his cheek from earlier today.

"Nice bruise."

"Shut up. And you're not going anywhere but back to Baker Street."

"And who are you to force me to go back? Last I checked, you got that bruise for trying to force me to go somewhere."

John cautiously peek his head out from behind Sherlock. "Sherlock? Maybe we should just let her go."

"No. You _will_ come back."

Immediately, I swung my fist at him, but he easily caught it and my whole arm shook from the effort of trying to fight once more.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

" _No._ "

I growled, in absolutely no mood to deal with him and shifted my position, moving my right leg in between Sherlock's legs and turning my whole body around, giving me the leverage I needed to throw Sherlock's body over my shoulder and onto the sidewalk. His eyes were wide in surprise and I stood up straight with a glower.

"I'm not someone you can manipulate, _Sherlock_." Glancing up at John, who flinched, I nodded. "Have a good night, John."

"R-Right."

With that, I stormed off and into my waiting cab to get back my furniture. The whole way there though, I thought and thought. I was beginning to regret what I did to Sherlock and silently scolded myself for taking out my anger on him. _He just pushed me too far today. Everything did. Maybe, once I get some energy out moving my furniture into my flat, I'll be a bit more willing to do whatever it is he wanted me to do._ I groaned and rubbed my temples as the cab pulled up to the truck and let me out. After paying him, with what little cash I had, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and drove the truck over to Baker Street.

It was well past dark, but I could care less and quickly did my best to relocate the furniture into the nearly finished living room of my flat. I could feel eyes watching me the whole time, but ignored the tall, lanky silhouette in the upper story window and continued to move the furniture. With myself as beat up as I was though, it was getting harder and harder to move the heavy pieces and the armchair was the last thing I had left to move by the time I was near close to collapsing from exhaustion.

 _But the rental truck needs to be returned first thing in the morning. I can't just wait here and not move the chair… and it's my favorite chair too._ I sighed and wiped the sweat from my brow before heaving the chair towards the first few steps leading up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I strained my muscles and pulled it up the steps with a hell of a lot of effort. So much, in fact, that once I had gotten it that far, my legs gave out and I fell back onto my butt.

"Shit." I cursed. "Overworked myself."

I breathed heavily for a good while before forcing my shaking limbs to move and standing up to try once more.

"Do you need some help?"

I sighed and looked up the stairs to see John standing there unsure as to whether to approach me or not.

"Do I need it? Probably. The question is, do I want it."

John took few seconds to process that and changed his question. "Do you want it, then?"

I smiled with a shake of my head, looking down at the fabric of the armchair that had been with me since my initial move to London.

"Not really, but why pass up a generous offer?"

John slowly smiled as well and hurried down the rest of the stairs to help me out. He grabbed one end of the chair and I grabbed the other and we both began trying to get the foul thing towards my flat. The problem was, not the chair, but my own muscles not wanting to cooperate. Trying to lift the chair was an effort in and of itself, but trying to move and keep the chair up was even worse and I grunted with effort as I felt my fingers beginning to slip. _How the hell did I manage to take this thing down from Angel's flat to begin with?!_

Just as I was about to shout to John to stop as the chair was slipping and would—most definitely—end up falling on my foot, another set of hands grabbed the end of the chair where I was and lifted it up with little difficulty. Imagine my surprise to see that it was Sherlock helping me out, although the glare on his face said that he didn't want to be.

"Uh, thanks, Sherlock."

He 'humphed' and helped John and I move the chair into the living room over by the couch. Once it was there, I collapsed on the couch and closed my eyes as I tried to control my heavy breathing.

"Thanks… John… Sherlock."

"Are you sure you're okay?" John asked, ever concerned.

I chuckled a bit. "Not in the slightest!"

He smiled and rolled his eyes a bit before asking me to sit up. I did so, and winced. I was much sorer than I thought and the few seconds of relaxing on the couch only proved that fact.

"Where were you hit then, other than your face?" John asked.

"Everywhere, really. Kicked me good in the shin punched me in the stomach and ribs, hit me on the head. It was a fight, John."

He nodded and pressed rather painfully on my shins.

"Damn, John! That hurts!"

"Sorry, but I need to check for broken bones. Have you had any trouble breathing?"

I lightly shook my head, becoming more painfully aware of my headache.

"No. I'm pretty sure my ribs are just bruised."

He nodded once more, but still asked, "Can you still lift your shirt up so I can check?"

I reluctantly nodded and lifted it up to show the dark colored bruises my abdomen was now sporting.

"Jesus, Jess! What were you fighting, a bear?"

I chuckled, but hissed in pain as he pressed on those bruises as well. "Ngh, nope. But I'll tell you this, he was worse off than me and will be needing something more than plastic surgery to rearrange his face."

John laughed and got up, allowing me to lower my shirt. "Good to know you can pack a punch. I'll remember to stay away from you when you're angry."

"Speaking of punching," I said, starting out softly before looking up at Sherlock who had been standing around and watching us. "Sorry about before. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Sherlock." John grumbled, but I waved it off.

"It's fine. He's right. Although, I would like to know my diagnosis, doctor Watson." I chuckled a bit and he smiled back.

"Well, you're definitely going to be hurting for a while and it seems you have sprained your ankle too. My suggestion is lots of rest, an Advil or two, and ice some of those bruises and you should be back in tip top shape in a few days."

"Right. Advice I will definitely take into account, aside from the lots of rest part. I need to return that rental truck tomorrow, finish tiling the kitchen, install the dishwasher, and then install the windows. And I should probably-"

"No, no, no." John chided. "Lots of rest means _lots_ of rest. I'll ask Mrs. Hudson to give you a break on the flat fixing for a day or so and I'll go ahead and return the truck tomorrow. I have to go in for a job interview anyway."

I sighed. "John, it's my flat now and I need to finish fixing it in order to make it livable. And I can return the truck. There's no need for you to—"

"Bullocks. You've been in two fights, got drunk, got a hangover, fought and broke up with your girlfriend all in two nights. You need to rest and it's no skin off my back to help a neighbor out."

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "Thanks John."

"Like I said, it's no problem at all."

"Oh, Sherlock?" I opened my eyes and glanced over at the, obviously bored, man. "Why did you want me to come back here so bad?"

"You were in no shape to go out fighting with your ex once more, and I would rather not deal with another drunken episode of yours."

"It couldn't have been that bad." I muttered.

"It wasn't." John said. "Don't listen to him, he's just upset that you managed to knock him to the ground twice."

"I am not _upset_ … merely… aggravated."

I snorted, but went on. "Right, well why did you want me coming with you earlier too? Where were you two going anyway? Out to dinner?"

"We're not gay!" John said, exasperatedly and I smiled.

"I know. I just like teasing."

"We were going to the bank to help a… colleague of mine." Sherlock grumbled.

"Ah. Another case then?"

He frowned, but nodded. _Probably wondering how I could figure out it was a case. Not that hard, really. He obviously doesn't think highly of his colleague and helped him out anyway. Has to be a case and an interesting one at that._

"And why were you attempting to drag me along? I doubt I would've been able to help you in any way. Unless you really were flirting with me." I said with a smirk.

"I was _not_ flirting, as I have stated already. I only wanted you to get an idea of what I do."

"In order to woo me. I know, I know."

He scowled while I continued to smirk, myself enjoying the fact that I was bothering him. I yawned then though, tired from the long day and John easily took the hint, heading toward the door and pulling Sherlock behind him.

"We'll go ahead and go now, Jess. And remember what I said. _Relax_."

"Yes, sir." I mock saluted as they headed out and stood up with grit teeth.

As much as I had been playing and joking around with the two of them, I was in some serious pain. I headed into the bathroom and grabbed the bag I snagged from my old flat, pulling out the bottle of Advil. Taking two dry, I finished putting away the rest of the medicine in the medicine cabinet and went back to the bedroom in order to grab some night wear.

Changing out of my clothes, I grabbed a black wife beater and put it on, along with a pair of grey sweats. Walking back out to the couch, I grabbed the radio on the way and turned it on so that it was playing some soft classical music; something I always did to help me get to sleep ever since— _No, no. Don't think of that. What my parents made me go through is not something I need on my mind right now._

Yawning once more, I relaxed on the couch and allowed the music to lull me to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day than the past two have been.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up early the next morning out of habit and realized that John was right. I was in a hell of a lot of pain. I managed to get up and grab some more Advil before going next door to ask if I could use Mrs. Hudson's shower since I hadn't quite finished fixing the bathroom in 221C yet. Thankfully, she readily allowed me to use it and I tried to shower for as long as I could stand, but it turns out I was only in there for half an hour. _I never did take long showers, but this is just going to make the day last far too long for my liking._ I sighed quietly and returned to my flat, digging through my bag to see if I had any leftover change lying around for some breakfast. Just then though, someone knocked on my door. I glanced up and saw Sherlock standing there, causing me to raise a brow.

"Can I help you?"

He held up his wallet. "Breakfast?"

I frowned at him. "And why would you be wanting to treat me to breakfast?"

He frowned back in response before tucking his wallet into his coat and turning away. "Just thought I'd offer, seeing as you only have a few pounds to your name at the moment and are unlikely to be cooking anything with a stove that hasn't been connected yet."

I scrambled up off the floor and put a hand on his shoulder. "Now hold on a minute, I didn't say I wouldn't eat with you."

He smirked and somehow, I felt like I was just duped. _He did that on purpose. The git._ Soon though, I had a thick coat on to battle the early London air, and we were catching a cab to some place. I had no say in where we were going, but as long as there was food and something to occupy me for the day to keep my mind off my aching body, I'd be fine with whatever Sherlock chose. The place we ended up at was decent enough though, and once we were seated and had ordered, I narrowed my eyes at Sherlock.

"You didn't order anything."

He glanced at me, turning from the window he had been looking out of. "I don't eat on cases."

"Alright, I'll take that. But why offer to pay for my food and drag me out here if you weren't going to eat anything?"

He gave me a look and returned his gaze to the window. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know that's a lie. What do you want?"

He turned back. "Who said I want anything?"

I sighed in frustration just as my food came. The plate was set in front of me and I poured syrup on my pancakes before picking up my fork and knife, carefully cutting bite sized pieces and eating them. I stopped though, upon feeling eyes on me, and I gave Sherlock a look.

"What? Never seen a person eat before?"

His slightly surprised expression went back to his bored one. "I just never expected someone like you to have manners."

I rolled my eyes, eating another bite. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when your parents only use you to show off their wealth."

He turned away with an odd expression that I couldn't quite place, but I shrugged it off for now and continued eating in relative silence until Sherlock finally decided to do what he dragged me here for.

"You don't find me interesting."

I raised a brow, finishing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "You? Hardly. Not to be rude or anything, but I could care less about what you do. It's nice and all that you go around solving crimes, but does that change the fact that I still have a flat to finish fixing? Or that my girlfriend cheated on me? Or that my parents disowned me? It doesn't effect me, so I'm willing to let you do as you want and not get in your way. Simple as that."

I ate a mouthful of eggs with a shrug, ignoring the frustrated look on Sherlock's face.

"You certainly live a dull life."

I nodded. "Yup. But I live a nice, quiet life. Well, other than the few mishaps here and there. I like what I do, just as you like what you do. To each his own."

Sherlock leaned forward, steepling his hands in front of his chin. "You certainly are an odd one."

"I'll take that as a compliment." I muttered, not sure what he was getting on about.

He suddenly rose then, his coat sweeping out behind him. "Shall we return then?"

I nodded, having finished my breakfast and feeling more than a little tired. _Don't know why I'm so tired, other than my busy past few days. But might as well indulge myself since Dr. Watson put me on bed rest._ I followed Sherlock out and back to Baker Street, however, instead of going back to my flat like I wished, Sherlock stopped and called out to me.

"Come upstairs. I need someone to bounce things off of other than my skull."

I scowled, giving him a look. "Really?"

He simply gave me a look in return and I sighed, doing as he asked in the hopes that he might leave me alone the rest of the day. _Don't know how long I'll stay awake though. Oh well. Sucks for him if I fall asleep mid-lecture._

* * *

John had just returned from his job interview, which had gone quiet well, seeing as he had been overqualified to begin with. _At least this will help me pay the bills a bit._ As he walked in, he wasn't surprised to find Sherlock sitting in a chair facing the fireplace, hands steepled before him.

"I said, could you pass me a pen." Sherlock stated, confusing John.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Didn't notice I'd gone out then." John muttered, finding a pen and throwing it his way.

He then looked around, spotting a sleeping figure on their couch, and gave Sherlock a glance.

"Is that Jess? What's she doing sleeping on our couch?"

"She went out with me to breakfast before we returned here and I spoke to her about the case seeing as you weren't around to do so and my skull doesn't speak back."

John furrowed his brows. "Wait, breakfast? And you _did_ notice I'd gone out?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, John. And it is perfectly acceptable to invite a neighbor to a meal every once in a while."

John glanced between him and Jess, confused again, it seemed. "And the two of you… got along?"

Sherlock gave John a look. "Yes, John. We're not animals. We are both perfectly capable of having a civilized conversation when the need arises."

"Alright then. What did you chat about? Is she any more interested in you?" John asked with a chuckle.

Sherlock frowned, returning his gaze to the pictures above the fireplace. "Not in the slightest. The woman is stubborn in staying ignorant and cares only about living a dull boring life surrounded by plaster and _books_."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, everyone has something they enjoy doing. That's just what she likes."

"Ugh, but _how_?!How does one find enjoyment in doing something as tedious as fixing dry wall _enjoyable_? Even I can see that she has so much more that she can be capable of. There's actually something rattling around in that head of hers, but she refuses to use it in anything more than writing dreary novels and fixing up flats."

John gave Sherlock a look. "Are you… Do you _like_ her, Sherlock?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Please John. You know I'm married to my work. I just can't fathom why she doesn't use her intelligence for something more… productive. Or why she doesn't at least acknowledge that there are other things of interest out in the world to occupy her mind. Even _she_ must need something to do to occupy her time and keep her mind from wandering aimlessly."

"Well, maybe she does, but you just don't know it yet."

"I highly doubt that." Sherlock said, leaning back in his seat and glancing at the sleeping woman. "But she's definitely hiding something."

"Don't go poking around in her life if she doesn't want you to, Sherlock. God knows you've ticked her off enough times already." John sighed, going and grabbing a blanket from his room and lying it over Jess while Sherlock just scoffed. "I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?"

"Great. She's great."

"Who?" Sherlock said, catching John's mix up.

"The job."

"She?"

"It." John replied.

Sherlock watched John suspiciously, but went back to the matter at hand, nodding towards the computer sitting on the table.

"Here, have a look."

John headed over, glancing at the news article on the screen. "The intruder who can walk through walls."

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."

"God, you think…"

Sherlock smirked. "Jess came to the same conclusion when I told her. He's killed another one."

Sherlock pressed his steepled hands to his smirking face, before standing and moving to put on his coat. John groaned.

"Already? Can't we just relax for a while? I just got home and Jess is—"

"No time to waste, John. Who knows when the killer will strike again and Jess is fine right where she is."

"We're just going to leave her here?" John said, slightly shocked. "Shouldn't we leave a note or something?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No need. She's not a child nor an idiot, John. She'll wake up, find us gone, and will probably head back on down to her flat. If we're lucky, she'll ask Mrs. Hudson to lock up after her. Now hurry up! We've got a flat to search!"

"Can we at least _ask_ the police before we just go charging in this time?!" John hollered after him as they headed out, leaving Jess sleeping on their couch as they chased after a killer.

* * *

I wasn't too pleased to find that Sherlock had left me alone in his flat asleep, but I just figured he'd learned something new about the case and forgot I was here. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Once I was up though, I headed down to my flat, feeling significantly better than this morning, and asked Mrs. Hudson to lock up their flat for me before I decided I was okay enough to get some kitchen tiling done. It would keep me off my feet and shouldn't be too difficult, plus I could get some work done. _After this though, I should check the paper for some jobs. Maybe even hit the bar and see if I can find anyone interesting. Anyone would be nice after what happened with Angel._ I sighed just thinking about her and quickly shook my head out of my thoughts. After a while, I heard Sherlock and John return and head upstairs, before I heard John heading back down and knocking on the frame of my door.

"You in here Jess?"

"In the kitchen!" I called out, not really caring if he found me working.

I heard him come in and sigh the moment he spotted me and what I was doing.

"I told you strict bed rest, Jess." He complained. "As in _no_ working."

I tilted my head back and whined childishly to him. "But I was _bored_."

He rolled his eyes and muttered quietly. "Just like someone else I know."

"Hey. You can't blame me. I'm used to doing _something_ almost constantly." I said, turning back to my work. "Staying still and sleeping all day isn't something I'm used to at all. Part of the reason I didn't want to be a lawyer too. Too much sitting around and doing nothing."

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean you need to be working. You could be writing a new book or, um, painting. You said you did painting, right?"

I nodded. "Yup, but I don't have any supplies with me for that right now and I don't feel like writing. No… _inspiration_ , I suppose."

John leaned against the door frame, looking curious. "Where _do_ you get inspiration from?"

I hummed in thought, placing the last tile in the ground and cleaning it up. "Hm, depends on what I'm writing. Since I'm more into the whole crime thing right now, I suppose I get ideas from whatever I come across."

"Like crime scenes and news stories?" He asked.

I shook my head with a chuckle. "Not quite. It's more like seeing something and wondering how someone could die from it."

John paled, making me laugh some more as I got up and brushed my pants off.

"You can't tell me you didn't find some scenes from my books a bit gruesome, John. I have a particularly… _psychotic_ mindset. I've had numerous critics comment about that kind of thing before. Even my ther—" I cut myself off, realizing what I had been about to say and shrugged it off before John could so much as comment. "But, yeah. I can be a bit twisted sometimes."

John followed me as I walked out, hands in the pockets of my jeans—having changed before I began tiling.

"I just, uh, assumed that you got the details from actual… well, _cases_." He commented as I grabbed my coat and keys from off a stool by the door.

"Nah." I said, glancing at him from over my shoulder. "I mean, I had a friend who worked in the police force back when I lived in the states. Uh, New York, to be more specific. He was a pretty nice guy, helped me out when I was in a few tight spaces with my parents and such, but he let me see a few things on occasion." I smirked in remembrance. "Probably wanted to keep me from ending up in jail or something. You know, scaring me to try and keep me on the right side of the law."

I had opened the front door at this point and turned back towards John.

"Do you, uh, want to keep talking over a drink? Or does crazy up there need you?"

John glanced up at the stairs leading to Sherlock's flat and grabbed his coat off the coat rack by the door with a small smile. "He shouldn't need me. And if he does, I have a phone."

I nodded and started out to the sidewalk. "You want to grab a pint or tea?"

John winced. "A bit early for a pint, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "Tea it is then. You willing to walk? I don't have much as far as cab fare goes."

"That's fine." He said and we headed off towards a café I knew down the road.

"Have you ever, um, _been_ on the wrong side of the law before?" John asked, picking back up on the previous conversation.

I nodded. "A few times. As Sherlock pointed out, I had quite the rebellious phase. I dabbled in a few things. Graffiti, the occasional breaking and entering of abandoned buildings, skateboarding in public areas was another one."

"But nothing… serious, right?"

I gave him a look. "Depends on what your definition of 'serious' is."

"U-Um, assault? Drugs? Burglary?"

"Not assault. Burglary? I think the most I ever stole was some cheap liquor from some convenience store, got caught not too much later. And drugs…" I frowned a bit. "It wasn't my best year."

John's eyes widened. "You did all of that?!"

I sighed, scratching the back of my head. "Yeah. But it's not like there wasn't a reason. I was getting a lot of pressure put on me because of my parents. I was just entering law school and they expected a lot from me right off the bat. I just got sick and tired of always being told I wasn't good enough and met up with some people who told me otherwise. Weren't the best crowd, but made me feel good about myself, you know?"

John looked down at the pavement and frowned, but seemed to understand. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Add that to the fact that I was younger than everyone at the school, and you're going to end up with one messed up kid. It definitely threw my parents in for a loop."

"I would assume so." He commented as we headed in and sat down at a small café, ordering what we wanted and returning to our conversation.

"So, uh, why are you telling me all of this anyway?" John asked, quickly seeing how it could come off rude and waving his hands about as he tried to fix it. "Not that I don't like this or anything! I was just wondering because, well, you don't really seem like the type to just go out and tell their life story."

I raised a brow at him. "Really? I'm actually pretty open about myself. If people want to know something, I'll tell them. Unless, of course, it's the press or some complete stranger or something. Even _I_ have limits. Besides, you seem like a decent enough guy. A soldier _and_ a doctor. Gotta be pretty loyal to do that."

Our drinks came then and I sipped at mine, before realizing John was looking at me in surprise.

"Something wrong?"

That seemed to have snapped him out of it. "N-No. It's just, um, h-how did you know I was a soldier? I don't remember telling you anything about that."

I set my cup down with a sigh. "Your haircut, the way you walk; shoulders back, back straight, chin up. It's not hard to figure out. Your leg on the other had was a bit harder."

"My leg?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I was trying to figure out if you got shot there, you know, because of the limp and all, but you were willing to take an upstairs flat. Kind of odd, so I guess it was psychosomatic or something."

His eyes widened more. "Y-You're just like Sherlock."

"Hm? Oh no. Not even close." I said with a grin, waving my hand lazily. "I'm just good at reading people. Came with the lawyer part of my education."

"O-Oh." He said, looking into his cup before drinking out of it deeply and looking back at me. "I, uh, I'm curious. What do you have against Sherlock?"

"Absolutely nothing" I said. "Like I told him this morning, it's nice what he does, but it doesn't really affect me so I just stay out of his way. I've been raised to get into people's lives through my job and as much as I liked being a lawyer, being nosy about what other people do in secret and such is something that I don't really care for."

"Wait, so you _liked_ being a lawyer? Why stop?"

I sighed, looking out the window to our right. "Mostly my parents trying to force it on me. That, and it made me realize just how disgusting the world can be. You and Sherlock see a lot of bad things I'm sure, but I've seen them too. The lies, deceit, drugs, murder, hate…" I chuckled bitterly, resting my chin in my hand and giving John a crooked grin. "My parents used to call me the scum of the Earth and I didn't really understand what they meant until I became a lawyer. Made what I did seem almost childish in comparison."

He opened his mouth to respond, when his phone went off. He glanced at the screen and sighed, texting back before looking at me. "Sorry, but it seems Sherlock's noticed I left."

"That's fine. I need to start looking for a job anyway." I said, gathering my trash and standing with John as we left the café.

"Do you, uh, want to come with me?" He suddenly asked, making me raise a brow. "It'd make Sherlock happy."

I shook my head. "Best not to. I have things I need to do, jobs I need to find. You know."

He nodded. "Just thought I'd offer."

"Maybe next time." I said, smiling just a bit and waving as he climbed into a cab.

Once he was gone I headed down the street, having an idea as to where I could go to get a job, but having this nagging feeling that someone was following me. When I passed by a phone booth, the phone began ringing and I reluctantly went in, seeing no one else around to answer it.

"'ello?"

"Miss Huttner. Please get in the car."

I spotted a black vehicle pull up to the curb on my right and frowned. "Why should I?"

"It is in your best interest. I'd rather not be forced to use violence."

 _Threatening me? Whoever this is, he knows who I am, so he knows what I'm capable of. Coming after me only means that he doesn't care, or he has no intention to get on my bad side. Seems polite enough over the phone, but courtesy doesn't necessarily mean he's a nice guy._ I sighed, seeing no other option, and reluctantly hung up the phone and headed towards the car, where a woman inside opened the back door to let me climb inside. Once I was seated, the car pulled away and off we went, the woman being completely focused on her phone and not even glancing my way.

"I take it you're not going to tell me where we're going?" I asked, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window.

She glanced up, before looking back at her phone. "No."

"Hm." I hummed, watching the scenery pass by until we eventually came to a stop inside of some warehouse.

I got out and walked towards the man who was leaning on an umbrella, a chair seated across from him, which I stood next to, my hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans. _Shouldn't sit down. Manners and all. The man seems posh enough._ I thought, gazing tiredly at the man, trying to keep my mind off the ache I was beginning to feel in my ankle from the injury I received in my previous scuffle.

He gave me a smile, fake and vaguely familiar. "Have a seat, Miss Huttner."

I sighed, but took my seat in the chair, fairly relaxed for now. _Nice suit and tie. Really nice shoes and decent slacks. Probably an office man, but with his cocky look… a high ranking office man._

"You look relaxed."

I shrugged. "No need to be tense."

"Oh? Have you deduced something?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't deduce people."

He smirked slightly, lips twitching up at the corners. "No, but you read people. Extremely well, from what I've heard."

"I'm relaxed because you're an office worker. Hardly a threat."

"Hm. I am more than a mere office worker, Miss Huttner."

"Jess is fine, you know." I muttered, already getting bored.

"Jess then… Do you know why you're here?"

I raised a brow. "You're going to make me guess?"

"Just curious."

Now, I couldn't say I _wasn't_ cautious of this man. He _did_ , after all, make me meet him via a trip in a suspicious vehicle. It's not every day you get threatened and drove to some unknown location to speak with some high ranking office worker. So yeah. I was a bit frightened. I was doing my best not to show it—something I'm good at—and I wasn't one for showing off what I could figure out about people, unlike a certain man.

I frowned. "What if I don't want to guess?"

 _He_ rolled his eyes this time. "Oh please. Hiding your mental potential is hardly benefiting of the daughter of a famous family of lawyers."

"No one _asked_ me if I wanted to be a part of that family." I growled, feeling my anger grow.

" _Temper_ , Jess." He chided.

I clicked my tongue at him and looked away, staring off in the distance. "What do you want?"

"What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

I scoffed, turning back to him. "Really? You called me out here because I just so happen to have caught his attention?"

The man before me lost his smile as I stared him down, him still waiting for an answer.

"If you really want to know, I don't _have_ a connection to him. I fix the flat downstairs in the same building and happened to be introduced. That's it. _Why_ he insists on trying to drag me places with him, I can't tell you."

The man raised a brow. "That's it?"

I nodded. "Nothing much. Definitely not worthy of being dragged here for your little interrogation."

"On the contrary. It seems you're very open about your opinion on him."

"He's an arse." I said, crossing my legs. "And I'm open to about everyone I meet, depending on the party interested."

"Hn." The man chuckled. "Then you'll be pleased to know about the offer I have for you. I am willing to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis for information as to what he is up to. Nothing too uncomfortable for you, of course. Just a text or two every week and when he's on cases."

I raised a brow. "Generous offer, but why?"

"Because you're not a wealthy person and I worry about him. Though I would prefer that my concern go unmentioned. We have a… difficult relationship."

"And you are?"

"To him… an enemy. Probably an archenemy, if you were to ask him. He does love to be dramatic."

"As do you, it seems." I muttered, looking around the warehouse as it suddenly clicked in my head. _They're related._ "And the figure?"

The man across from me smirked. "Ten thousand pounds depending on what information you give me."

 _Hm, could help me pay for the flat and pay back John and Sherlock for the bail, but I hardly know what he's up to and would I really be willing to sell him out for ten thousand pounds?_ I sighed, uncrossing my legs and getting up from the chair.

"Sorry, but John wouldn't appreciate it if I were to do that, as intriguing as it sounds."

"You're very loyal." He commented.

I shrugged. "If you think so."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small notebook and opening it. "Possible psychopathic tendencies."

I froze in my place, feeling anxiety surge up within me as he went on.

"Dyslexia, drug use, and a juvenile record. My, you're almost as bad as he is."

I grit my teeth, trying to reel in my temper before I ended up earning myself a lawsuit for trying to murder the man in front of me. "How do you know that?"

"Curious, isn't it? How you hide everything about yourself while keeping it in plain sight."

I rounded on him, eyes hardened in a glare as I stared him down. "Look, I don't care who you are or what position you have, be it in the government or whatever. But you stay out of my files or you'll be sure that I'll do everything in my power to shove a lawsuit so far up your arse that your _whole family_ will have a hard time even looking at you."

His eyes narrowed at me, but I didn't care. I was done being threatened and I was sick and tired of people thinking they can do whatever they want to force me into doing something. _My parents, Sherlock, this pompous bastard. I'm sick and tired of it._

"It's best you choose whose side you're on, Jess Huttner."

"And you best learn who not to mess with, Mr. Holmes." I growled back, catching his surprised look before walking off angrily.

I didn't even glance at the woman next to me as I slid into the car and slammed the door shut, but they needed directions and I gave them.

"The Black Hat. 171 Carmen Rd."

* * *

I sighed, thankful that the gay bar I had just gone to was nice enough to hire me as a bartender, but knew that I was going to probably have to take up another job as well. Pulling out the newspaper I had tucked into my coat, I checked the job listing section where I had circled potential jobs, spotting one at some place in London's Chinatown that I thought I could work at. _Thank God I took so many language classes in college._ Putting the newspaper away, I began my walk, knowing that I wasn't too far away. Oddly enough, I spotted a couple of people I didn't expect to see and mentally sighed as I approached, knowing I might regret not just walking the other way.

Sherlock and John were heading towards each other, John's eyes in a small book and Sherlock holding something and spinning around talking to himself. _They're going to—_ I winced, my thoughts being cut off as John and Sherlock collided with one another. I wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but I spotted John pointing at a shop across the street and I managed to follow them inside. The shop was a small, quaint place with Chinese lucky cats waving their paws up and down and varies fans and tea sets assorted on the shelves and tables. The owner seemed nice enough too, offering John a cat, which he politely turned down.

"Ten pound. Ten pound!"

"No." John said, smiling awkwardly.

"I think your wife, she will like!"

"No, thank you."

"Why not, John? The cats with their left paw up is supposed to attract money to the owner." I said, startling him as I wandered around the shop, picking up a nice blue and white tea cup.

"Jess! What are you doing here?!"

I raised a brow at his shocked expression. "Window shopping. I was in the area to check out a job opportunity."

"Dull." Sherlock commented from across the room, looking over some clay statues.

"To you, maybe." I said with a shrug. "I think the bartending job I got will be a little fun at least."

"Bartending? Where at?" John questioned as he picked up a tea cup as well.

"The Black Hat." I replied, setting my own tea cup down with a smirk. "Though I don't think you'd want to visit anytime soon. People might talk."

I couldn't help the small chuckle at the expression now on his face, before he shifted his glance back at the tea cup, turning it over.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock set down a statue he'd picked up and wandered over, looking at the cup John was holding as well, though I was lost as to the importance of it.

"That label there."

"Yes. I see it."

"Exactly the same as the cipher." John cleared his throat, setting the cup back down as I leaned forward to peek over at them.

"I'm guessing this has to do with your case?"

John nodded. "There was some, uh, graffiti in a bank and at the scene of two murders. We've been trying to figure out what it means."

"Oh. So like a message of some kind? Sounds fun." I said as the three of us headed out of the shop and down the street were some street vendors were set up.

I figured that my bartending job would be good enough for now since I still needed to finish fixing up the flat before I could start a day job too. _So the other job can wait. That, and I suppose I_ am _a little interested in what this message is that Sherlock and John are talking about. Might be good for my next book. Who knows?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Mature themes implied... and will continue throughout rest of story.**

* * *

"Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucy Cat emporium. What did they see?" John rattled off as we waited for our food in a café across the way from the trinket shop.

"Sounds to me like they didn't see anything." I hummed, sipping at the Chai tea I'd gotten, contently. "They wouldn't have returned here if they did. They would have ran for their lives."

Sherlock nodded, though I caught him watching me curiously once more. "It's not what they saw, it's what they both brought back in those suitcases."

"And you don't mean duty free." John commented as Sherlock scribbled the Chinese symbols and two sets of numbers onto a napkin.

They'd mentioned earlier how it was some sort of warning code or something and I absentmindedly drummed my fingers as my mind ran a mile a minute trying to figure out what kind of code had two numbers that could form a warning. _Though why I'm here, I don't quite know. I should have just gone home. My body is more than sore._ I looked up when the waitress came by, thanking her politely when she set down a plate for John and myself. _Hm, she's a little cute._

"Think about what Sebastian told us." Sherlock said, leaning forward and speaking more to John than I. "About Van Coon. About how he stayed afloat in the market."

"Lost five million…"

"…made it back in a week."

John hummed, taking a bit of his pasta as I connected the dots.

"You think they were smuggling and one of them took something." I concluded and Sherlock glanced at me briefly before nodding as something else caught my attention. "But there's been more than one murdered, so… Oh."

John raised a brow as I grinned.

"They don't know who took it."

"You catch on quick." John mused and I hummed, eating some of my chicken happily.

"Mystery writer." I replied, before Sherlock suddenly stood and I frowned; John and I still having nearly full plates.

"Remind me, when was the last time that it rained?"

John and I begrudgingly left our food and hurried after him across the street where he brushed a thumb over a wet Yellow Pages in front of an apartment door nestled between two homes.

"It's been here since Monday." He muttered, ringing the bell before heading away from the door.

John glanced at me, but I shrugged, not quite sure what was going on either as we trailed after the man. Sherlock had ducked into an alleyway and we were a few feet behind him.

"No one's been in that flat for three days."

"So?" I asked, not sure what some random flat had to do with it.

"Could've gone on holiday." John offered, but Sherlock had stopped and was looking up at an open window to the flat he'd been trying to ring up.

"Do _you_ leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" He asked, before taking a running jump at the fire escape.

He clambered up it, leaving the two of us down below as my eyes widened.

"Sherlock!" John harshly whisper-shouted, before he turned to me. "Do you think you could reach that?"

I took a glance at the ladder and winced. "No, probably not. I may be tall and a bit of an ex-delinquent, but I'm not _that_ tall."

"Right." He grumbled, leading the way back to the front of the building, where he rang the buzzer and called up to Sherlock. "Do you think maybe you could let me in this time?"

"This time?" I questioned and John groaned.

"He did something similar with Van Coon."

"What? You mean breaking and entering?" I said mockingly. "Lawyers must have a field day with you two and the cops."

"Yeah, no kidding." John grumbled, bending over to speak through the letterbox. "Can you _not_ keep doing this please?"

Sherlock called out something from inside, but John missed it, as did I.

"What? _What_ are you saying?" John sighed and looked rather exasperated as he pulled away from the letterbox. "I'm wasting my breath."

"Let me try." I hummed, leaning over as John had. "Oi, Sherlock?! I hope you know, you're breaking more than one law by doing this! I could have you arrested!"

I heard something along the lines of "I'd like to see you try" and rolled my eyes as I mocked him.

"Oh, look at me. I'm Sherlock and I think I'm _so_ above the law." I sassed. "Tell you what, buddy! I'll _never_ represent you in court, so don't come bugging me when you end up in prison!"

I stood up and shook my head, not knowing what to tell John, but it wasn't much longer than the door opened and Sherlock stood there. He looked a little paler than usual, but it was his croaky voice that caught my attention and made me raise a brow.

"The, um, milk's gone and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago."

"Somebody?" John asked, though I drummed my fingers on the crook of my elbow.

"I'm still curious as to what some abandoned apartment has to do with this case. Seems a bit random to me."

"Don't be stupid." Sherlock rasped out, glaring at me before turning back to John. "Soo Lin Lao. We have to find her."

He bent down and picked up something off the ground.

"But how, exactly?" John asked as Sherlock unfolded the envelope and showed it to John. "Maybe we could start with this?"

We headed off and John made a face as Sherlock coughed.

"You're getting all croaky, are you getting a cold?"

"I'm fine." Sherlock said, though I watched him for a moment longer before brushing his odd behavior off. Who was I to question the _great_ Sherlock Holmes?

When they hailed a cab though, we went our separate ways. I was bored, honestly. Having never really been into the more boring side of the 'searching for clues' part of a mystery, and instead headed back to the flat to get some sleep. I was still on designated bed rest, and a nap would feel good. After all, I was planning on hitting the bar later, and either I'd find someone new to possibly care for, or I'd at least find someone who wanted a good time. Either way, I had plans and now even Sherlock and his constant nagging would pull me away from them.

* * *

"Whiskey on the rocks, Jackie."

The woman turned, spotting me with a wide grin as I strolled into the bar.

"Jess! I haven't seen you in a while. Well, other than my assistant seeing you this morning. When he told me it was you who wanted the job, how could I say no?" She came over, making my drink before cringing when she saw my, still dark, black eye. "Your girlfriend do that to you?! I told you she wasn't good for you."

"No kidding." I grumbled, quickly draining a good amount of my drink, feeling the burning sensation making its way down the back of my throat. "Can you believe she kicked me out?"

"No!"

I nodded, frown still etched in place. "Yeah. Here I am, paying the bills and she kicks me out because I punched her new catch after he made a comment about women not being able to satisfy other women."

"I can't believe her!" Jackie shouted, moving to lean against the counter.

Now, Jackie was actually short for Jackson and _he_ was a drag who ran the bar I was currently seated at. We'd been good friends ever since I came to England in the first place in the search for someone and he'd help me pick out a few on occasion. Which is why I was here now, in the hopes of finding a new catch since my last didn't turn out, though it was nice of him to give me a job earlier.

"Right? Ugh, and I walked in on them going at each other in my bed." I drank some more. "Then I got arrested because I got into a brawl with her _boyfriend_ thanks to her throwing a fit about the furniture _I_ bought!"

"Now that's just not right!" Jackie said, pouring me more. "That's the problem with people nowadays. You can never know what they're really after… So are you here to find a new one?"

"Maybe. Depends. I might just end up looking for a good time at this point." I sighed softly, drinking some more. "With my luck, I'll be lucky to get even that."

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself, Jess! Any man or woman would be lucky to have someone as great as you."

I smiled a little. "Thanks, Jackie."

 _I'm pretty desperate… though not desperate enough to spy on Sherlock._ I frowned at the thought, having gone on to another drink, deciding to let myself go while I was here since I wouldn't be drinking for a while now that I got the job. Jackie could see though that I was getting more and more drunk as time went on and I hardly noticed when a woman sat down next to me, watching me.

"Oh, you're a cute one, aren't you?"

That caught my attention and I turned my head, blinking my blurry vision away as I got a good look at her and she, me. _Whoa…_ I thought. _She's… beautiful…_ I wasn't exaggerating either. Everyone in the bar had their eyes on her and I could see why. She was wearing a tight fitting red dress that showed off her near perfect figure and the dark red lipstick she was wearing kept drawing my attention back to her face as her eyes bore into mine. She reached a hand up, brushing her fingers across my black eye, causing me to wince.

"It's a shame someone would mark a pretty face like yours." She commented, making me swallow nervously, though my drunkenness made it easy to hide.

"And it's a shame you're here… no woman stands a chance against you." I murmured.

"Oh, and charming as well." She said, giving me a smile that made my heart clench. "How would you like a drink?"

I shook my head, feeling my mind and body sway dangerously. "No, no. Nope." I said, popping the 'p'. "Too much to drink."

"I wouldn't say that." She cooed. "There's no such thing as too much."

I brought a hand to my face sloppily, trying to hide a darkening blush, and she chuckled as Jackie headed our way.

"Now, now, Irene. Jess here's had a rough week. Try to play nice."

Irene smiled up at Jackie as I peeked out from over my hand. "I don't play nice, Jackie. You know that."

"Nope, nope." I muttered, moving to stand, though my legs felt like jelly and I had to hang onto the bar counter just to make sure I was standing upright. "Can't stay. Too much to drink. John'll get mad again."

"John?" Irene said, questioningly. "You're already taken then?"

I immediately shook my head, the movement making me almost fall, though I caught myself. "He's my neighbor! Neighbor, neighbor. Army man, doctor in a jumper. Nice John. Bailed me out of jail."

"You were in jail?"

I nodded, bar stool behind me, threatening to topple over. "Angel broke up with me. kicked me out and stole my couch. I liked that couch." I pouted childishly, before catching myself and placing a hand to my head. "No, no. Bad Jess. No distractions. Need to go home."

I turned to go, but Irene had stood up, pressing a hand to my face and another to my shoulder, pushing me against the counter.

"Now, I think you might _need_ a distraction, Jess."

I looked down slightly at her, her being just a bit shorter than myself and my eyes scanned her over quickly, the alcohol having reached my head and destroying my filter that kept me from blurting whatever I wanted.

"Distraction. Okay… Young, but not as young as you want. Early 30s. Born in the '80s. Calluses on hand from holding something and muscles in arms showing that something is something you swing. Dominating. Power-hungry. Not press related job. Something else."

She pressed closer to me, using her hand to bring my eyes back to her level. "Intelligent too. Brainy's the new sexy, you know."

The room seemed to spin a moment as her lips pressed to mine and when she pulled away, I nearly collapsed right there. It was like something hit me, but it made something click in my head as well.

"Dominatrix." I muttered, eyes scanning hers as a smirk appeared on her face and she turned towards the bar counter.

"I'm going to be borrowing this one, Jackie. That alright?"

I could practically sense Jackie rolling her eyes.

"Do what you want. Just be sure to leave her in one piece. She'll be working here in a few days."

Next thing I know, I'm being pulled out of the bar and into a car, Irene dragging a hand through my hair and yanking on the sensitive follicles at the base of my skull as she whispered in my ear.

"I hope you're prepared, Jess. Distractions are what I'm best at."

* * *

I laid in the bed, slightly out of breath and staring up at the ceiling in a daze, covered in nothing more than the sheets around me.

"W-Wow." I breathed out. "Why is it I get the feeling I've been missing out on something for the longest time?"

"Because you _have_ , sweetie." Irene hummed with a smirk, coming over and placing a chaste kiss on my lips and making me groan as I followed her slightly when she pulled away. "You're welcome to stay. Kate will fetch anything you might need."

She started to move towards the walk-in closet, but I sat up and stopped her.

"Wait, Irene." I called out, making her paused and glance at me from over her shoulder, and I hesitated before shaking my head. "N-Never mind. It's not important."

Instead of coming over and asking what was wrong like some women might, she shrugged and turned back to the closet. After all, Irene Adler was no ordinary woman. And as much as her job might seem odd or disturbing to some people, I wasn't bothered by it and found the woman rather passionate when she wanted to be; not always being the harsh whip-hand that her website described her as. I sighed softly and got up myself, stretching my lanky limbs and moving around the bed to pick up my clothes; which Kate must have had washed sometime last night or early this morning. I was only half dressed when my phone buzzed in the pockets of my pants and I frowned in contemplation as I held my shirt and bra in my one hand and fished out my phone with the other. I grew even more confused at the text from Sherlock.

 _What to help catch a murderer?_

 _-S_

I rolled my eyes and locked my phone once more as a pair of silky smooth hands suddenly found their way around my torso and lightly clawed at my stomach, making me close my eyes with a soft sigh of pleasure.

"Work?" Irene whispered into my ear and I hummed deep in my throat.

"Not quite. Pesky neighbor trying to show off and drag me into his messes." I replied, allowing Irene to help me with my clothes as she trailed kisses up my neck.

"Sounds fun." She smirked against the crook of my neck and finishing up the buttons on my shirt. "Are you planning on indulging in his wishes?"

I scoffed as we pulled apart. "Hardly. I still have a flat to finish remodeling."

"Oh, but that's rather dull, don't you think?" She smirked and I rolled my eyes as I trailed after her figure, which was tightly wrapped in a black dress and flashy red heels.

"And who say's I'm not fine with a bit of boring?" I argued, and she turned with a raised brow.

"After last night, I'd say just about anyone." She answered me and I rolled my shoulders with a slight wince, grunting in begrudging acknowledgement.

"Yes, well, I _was_ rather desperate last night." I turned back to her with a smirk. "And how could I resist you?"

She chuckled, a sound that echoed in my ears pleasantly as we headed for the door. "Yes, well I think you could do with some adventure in your life, Jess. Go have some fun and maybe afterwards you and I could arrange something a little more your style."

She smirked back, adjusting my shirt collar before brushing her lips across mine once more as I hummed. We pulled apart and I held the door open for her, hailing a cab and letting her go before me with a smile.

"Thanks, Irene."

"Dear, you've provided me with more entertainment than I could have imagined." She answered me. "Keep this up, and I might just have to charge you."

I quirked another grin at her and allowed her to head off before hailing my own cab and heading back to Baker Street in a much better mood. _And what a woman._ I thought idly. _She's definitely more than she appears. And damn, is that hot._

* * *

Sherlock scowled, none too pleased with the image he had before him. Jess hadn't returned all night, according to Mrs. Hudson, who was more than ready to share that bit of gossip along with whatever she believed to have happened to the woman. John looked a little disappointed at her yapping about Jess possibly having found another lover, but Sherlock was near volatile with annoyance at the loud music coming from the radio at Jess's side as she hummed with a smile and continued to work on the walls of her new flat.

He could see the signs of her night out. She moved a little stiffly, but not in the ways her previous nights of injury would cause. The grin on her face was unmistakable as well, and while it was an improvement on her sour mood the past few days, the hickeys on her neck Sherlock could deal without. _He_ was supposed to be the one to fix her mood. He was supposed to show her just how great he was and she was supposed to be stunned and amazed. Or at least give _some_ motion as to her feelings about his deductions. But even now, she continued to ignore his presence as she worked on the wall before her, so he stormed over and turned off the radio, finally drawing her eyes to him and making her grin falter.

"What'd you do that for?" She questioned him with a frown and he scowled back.

"I texted you."

She turned back to the wall. "Yeah, and? I have a flat to fix."

"And you could have done that last night instead of wasting your time with some harlot." Sherlock snapped and she stood, immediately furious with him.

"You call her that again, and you'll _wish_ I'd have ignored your text and stayed out today." She growled and Sherlock grit his teeth and forced himself to bite back the comment on his lips.

He wanted her to join him, not anger her to the point of storming out to be with some woman again. At his begrudging silence, Jess relaxed slightly and moved back, bending down to begin packing up the plaster and tools at her feet. Sherlock watched for a moment, trying to decipher on whether she was planning on joining him or running from his comment, but she informed him before he could question.

"Now what is it that you're trying to drag me into?" She grumbled, not sounding pleased by her own decision, but willing enough to join him that he felt his previous excitement return.

"Soo Lin Yao, the woman who owns the flat we visited the other day. John and I have discovered that she is still sneaking into the museum where she works to take care of some antique tea pots. We were hoping to meet with her tonight and get her to safety, if not catch the murderer before he kills another." He rattled off quickly and Jess hummed.

"And you need me for…?"

"An extra set of eyes." He answered swiftly. "And your relative skills in self-defense make you a better applicant than, say, her stick of a co-worker or one of my irregulars."

She raised a brow at that. "Irregulars?"

"My homeless network." Sherlock corrected, realizing he'd not had a chance to explain this to her and feeling excited to have grabbed her attention with it. "A number of people I can pay to do various tasks that are—"

"Too mundane and boring for someone of your stature?" Jess finished, snorting as she put the cans of plaster away in the closet full of tools in the hall.

"Yes." Sherlock replied bluntly, and Jess couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came from her mouth as she gave him a grin.

"Alright, alright. I'll come with you on your little expedition. Just let me change into something less covered in plaster, yeah?"

She waved him off and he too, couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as he bounded upstairs and gathered up John into his coat and went to wait for Jess so they could head to the museum. John noticed Sherlock's good mood and questioned it for a second, up until Jess reappeared and headed out with them. He shook his head and silently questioned how Sherlock could continue to say he didn't care much for this woman, when it seemed he was constantly begging for her attention and grew as excited as a five year old chalked up on sugar when she actually went with them. Though, he did wish it was under slightly better circumstances. Attempting to catch a murderer and save a woman in the process wasn't exactly his idea of a date, but hey. Sherlock wasn't exactly a normal guy and who knows? Maybe Jess would be into a little bit of action. _Either that, or I'm surrounded by psychopaths. Shame it seems I'm beginning to lean towards them._

* * *

Did I regret going with John and Sherlock to save Soo Lin Yao? At the end of the night? Yeah, I kind of did. I mean, we spent hours just sitting in the dark and waiting for the woman and when she did appear, we spent the next twenty minutes listening to her talk about her past. Sad as it was that she had been brought into smuggling at a young age and lost her brother to it, I was rather lost as to what her significance in this case of Sherlock's was; much less why I was here. Then, after finally discovering that she was the killer's brother and a part of the smuggling ring, things started to make a bit more sense. But how hard could it be to just sneak her out now and send her into police protection? Two people should have been plenty. But then I remembered Sherlock's whole thing about showing off and attempting to stun me with his 'amazing skills', and I couldn't help the roll of my eyes as I drummed my fingers on my elbow in slight boredom. _I'd rather be with Irene, honestly. I've only got until the end of the week, and then I'll be working until two in the morning. And with her… business, relaxing during the days will be impossible._ I frowned then, remembering what I'd been about to ask her earlier that morning. _Are we together? Or am I just another client? She seemed honest enough last night, but… it's like there's something I'm missing about her and it makes me wonder what I am to her. It's only been a day though, so I didn't question her, but should I wait? I… I don't want this to be another Angel scenario. I don't want to be… used like that again._

The lights went out suddenly and I was startled out of my thoughts as Soo Lin Yao spoke in a scared, breathy whisper.

"He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me."

 _Spider? That's suiting._ I mentally muttered, still trying to adjust my eyes to the dark as I heard—more than saw—Sherlock run off. John then got my attention and pressed Soo Lin Yao into a small crawl space.

"Jess, keep an eye on her. I've got to go help Sherlock." John told me as gun shots went off and he cursed under his breath before leaving the room.

The gunshots continued for a while, but then it got quiet and I waited with Soo Lin for a moment, until a breeze brushed across my face. I frowned, not knowing when the window had been opened, but then remembering that this Zhi Zhu person had apparently climbed like a spider up into Soo Lin's flat and a number of other places that Sherlock had mentioned in this case of his. I moved slowly, attempting to use what little night vision I had to keep an eye out, though I didn't know what use I could be if the man had a gun, like the shots said he did.

"Soo Lin, we need to get out of here." I whispered softly, keeping a hand behind me to make sure she stayed there as we slowly stood. "There's a door behind us. We just need to make it that far and then find Sherlock and we'll be—"

I was cut off when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye and I shoved Soo Lin towards the door as a gunshot went off and a sharp pain went across my arm. The bullet had only skimmed me, but I wasn't about to take the risk of the man actually getting a good shot and I ducked behind a desk as I shouted for Soo Lin to run for it. I didn't hear her run though and only heard the soft mutterings of something in Chinese before another gunshot rang out and I felt ice run through my veins.

"Soo Lin!" I called out, making the mistake of getting up from my hiding place and spotting her body on the ground just moments before the butt of a gun bashed across my temple and sent me sprawling to the ground.

I groaned, vision spinning and head aching from the hit as I tried to push myself up, but I knew it was too late. Soo Lin was dead and the killer had escaped. I heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs and John made a choking noise at the sight of Soo Lin's body, before he spotted me and rushed to my side.

"Oh, God, Jess. Jess, are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah. Just fine, John." I bit out sarcastically as he helped me sit up. "You know me. Shot in the arm, bashed upside the head. Yeah, I'll be just fine."

"God, you were hit?"

"Clipped, really. Still hurts though, so would you mind letting it _go_?"

"Oh, sorry." He apologized, releasing my injured arm as Sherlock hurried in.

"Soo Lin, where is she?" He asked, soon spotting the body and turning to John and me with a frown. "And you two left her here alone?"

Now it was my turn to scowl at the man.

"I'll have you know, I was right here, but like there's a damn thing I can do against a man with a gun. You're lucky I didn't join her." I snapped at him, holding my head as John helped me to stand, and offered to call the police since it seemed Sherlock wouldn't.

The police and a paramedic soon arrived, myself insisting that I didn't need to go to the hospital and eventually convincing them that I was coherent enough to simply return home without the extra trip; so long as John made sure I didn't have a concussion and kept me awake for the next few hours to prove so. I wasn't pleased to have to join them—my good day having now been ruined—and I waited in the cab as they spoke with some detective; them returning to the cab looking less than pleased. I was dropped off at Baker Street though, before they went off to somewhere else; John having decided I needed rest and another trip would probably push me over the edge. Couldn't say I didn't agree. Sherlock's attitude was beginning to annoy me greatly and if I was stuck in the cab with him for much longer I probably _would_ have snapped at him.

Unfortunately, due to my injury I had to inform Irene that our fun would have to wait until my head wasn't attempting to murder me with a furious headache. She was kind enough about it, wishing me well and sending me a rather… nice picture to make up for it. And after the recommended hours of needing to stay awake, I attempted to sleep for the first time in nearly a day, only to be awoken a moment later with the pounding of feet on steps. It continued for what seemed like hours before it finally went quiet and just as I'd closed my eyes again, another pair descended and a loud knock sounded on my door. I groaned and begrudgingly got up, only to try and shut the door again at the sight of Sherlock's face. He, of course, stopped the door closing with his foot and I scowled as I headed back to my couch with a complaint.

"Whatever it is, no."

"That's not very nice. I would think a neighbor as helpful as yourself would be eager to do some book reading to assist in the possible capture of a murder among a league of smugglers." He rattled off, inviting himself in as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

"Just because I'm an author doesn't mean I enjoy reading every book in the universe. And don't you think you've dragged me into enough of this case? Or was my being hit upside the head and shot in the arm not good enough for you?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You're perfectly capable of skimming some books to assist with our mysterious book code. Headache or no. Now hurry on upstairs. The sooner you assist with this, the sooner it will be over with."

And as much as I wanted to say no, I knew that if I did, he wouldn't cease to bother and pester me, so I'd be better off heading upstairs as he said. _And if I fall asleep part way through, then it's his own fault._ I mentally complained as I trudged my way up the stairs after him and glared John into silence before plopping down with some of the books; opening them to page fifteen and checking the first word for something that might make sense. And as _thrilling_ as that was, I did end up passing out a few hours after I started; not waking up until midafternoon the next morning.

"A book that everybody would own." Sherlock said out loud, waking me with the first words he'd said in hours.

"Hm?" I sat up, startled, before looking at the scattered boxes of books and groaning as I leaned back on the couch and draped an arm over my tired eyes. "Dear, god. You're _still_ doing this."

He ignored me and pulled down some books, myself pulling out my phone and wincing upon seeing the time. _I need to make it up to Irene for canceling earlier. Maybe she'd like some dinner…_ I began sending a text as Sherlock flipped through some books.

"I hope you're not looking at a bible or dictionary or something of that sort. There's too many different types printed to get the same word on the fifteenth page every time." I commented, making him growl and toss the books harshly into the box before him and ruffle his hair in annoyance.

When footsteps sounded on the stairs though, I didn't even look up, having been distracted by a response from Irene. One that made me grin, even as Sherlock spoke with John now in the room.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight.

"Actually, I've… uh, got a date." John said, looking giddy as I waved my phone.

"As do I."

Sherlock looked between us both, though I felt his eyes linger on me more as I got up and stretched with a cringe at my injured arm. "What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained.

"That's what I was suggesting." Sherlock replied with a frown that made me snort.

"Yeah, I doubt it. He means two people with intimate feelings towards each other, Sherlock. Not two mates sneaking out for a pint."

Sherlock frowned, pouting almost. "Where are you taking her?" He asked John before turning and frowning at me. "And _her_?"

"Dinner." I said with a twitch of my lips. "Then maybe, _not_ dinner."

John caught on and let out a short cough before he answered. "Uh, cinema."

"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock drawled, pulling something from his pocket and passing it to John. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."

It was a ticket for some Chinese circus thing that rang an alarm bell in my head, though I wasn't sure why. John was quick to say no, though, so I didn't feel the need to worry about it and Sherlock turned to me with a scowl.

"And what do you mean by _not_ dinner."

"Hm." I hummed with an amused smirk. "I was being delicate, but if you want a blunt answer then I suppose I can give you one. You ruined my night last night by dragging me to that museum and I had to cancel, but I plan on taking her out for dinner and then staying overnight at her place for a shag."

John choked on air at my bluntness and Sherlock made a face of disgust, quickly returning to his chair and pointing at the door.

"Get out."

"Gladly." I chirped, glad I unnerved him with my response and heading downstairs to change into something a bit nicer for Irene.

 _And since I happened to annoy Sherlock this much, perhaps he'll leave me alone while I'm out this time._


	5. Chapter 5

I shuffled uncomfortably, adjusting the black tie around my neck that felt as though it was strangling me. _Is this too formal? Will Irene like it? Oh, I haven't been this nervous in ages._ I swallowed thickly, before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. _No. I can do this. It won't end up like Angel. I'll make sure it won't. For now, it's just dinner. No need to panic._ I let out the breath I'd been holding and stepped out from the cab, heading up to Irene's door and ringing the bell. It took a moment before Kate let me in and I smiled politely at her before Irene came downstairs and my heart leapt up into my throat.

Her hair was done up in an old-styled up-do of sorts, that familiar bright red lipstick drawn across her lips and her make-up done near professionally. But what caught my attention was the silky dark green dress that billowed around her ankles but easily accentuated her eyes and the slimness of her curves. I could barely manage to contain the blush quickly working its way up to my ears, much less attempt to get some words out to compliment her. _Oh dear. This might be more complicated than I thought._

"Oh, seems I've broken my date." Irene smirked, sauntering over and reaching up to grab the back of my neck as she kissed me deeply, making me groan in the back of my throat as I leaned into it, before pulling away.

"You look beautiful." I murmured. "I almost want to skip the dinner and hide you away here. No man should see you looking this amazing."

I snaked an arm around her waist as she smirked and tapped my cheek.

"But then how would be able to show me off, Jess?"

I smiled at her teasing and moved to her side as I walked her out. "I've found a nice place. Nothing too formal, but not informal either. A quiet, out of the way restaurant where we shouldn't be bothered too much."

"Hm, with your budget?" She mocked and I leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I know a guy."

"You mean you know what he likes." She said softly back as I opened the cab door for her.

"Perhaps, but it's more like… I helped him out of a tight spot a while back." I replied, closing the door and moving around to the other side to climb in beside her; giving the cabbie the address as she spoke.

"I take it we'll be learning quite a bit more about each other, then?"

"If you're interested." I answered. "We can set up rules beforehand. Keep from poking at sensitive subjects. For example, I used to be a lawyer, but I wish to avoid the topic of family and my ex-girlfriend."

"I _thought_ your last name sounded familiar." She smiled, leaning over with a wicked smirk that made me stiffen; worried that she would be like the dozens of other people I'd attempted to date, who only wanted to be with me because of my family. "You know what my job is, though I am currently working on multiple side projects and used to date Kate, both of which I would like to avoid as a dinner topic."

I relaxed as I saw that she was going along with the game of twenty questions I'd started up; the two of us spending the drive to the restaurant coming up with rules for what would and wouldn't be alright to discuss during dinner. Upon arriving, I felt my back straighten immediately and my arm go protectively around Irene's waist. The few men and even women in the restaurant turned their eyes to us almost immediately as we were brought to our table, but I stared down every one of them with a sharp glare; silently declaring that she was mine and to keep their eyes to themselves. The obeyed, going back to their own dates or their evening meals as I pulled out Irene's chair for her; hearing her chuckle.

"What?"

She smiled at me. "Bit possessive yourself, aren't you?"

I pouted as I pushed her chair in and moved to my own seat. "You want me to share the most beautiful and clever woman in the room with those people? It's alright for _me_ to undress you with my eyes, but I'd rather they kept to themselves and not ruin our night out with impudent stares."

"I simply didn't expect you to be so… jealous of others." She mused, leaning forward with her hands tucked under her chin. "Were you like this with _all_ your old girlfriends?"

"Hm, hardly." I smiled, setting down my menu as well and waving down a waiter. "My exes didn't attract _nearly_ as much attention as yourself, and most stares were aimed at _my_ person." My smile widened into a smug smirk. " _They_ were the jealous ones."

I ordered for myself, allowing Irene to order for her own person, before we started up some friendly conversation. I learned quite a bit about her. She loved irises and the deep red color of roses. She enjoyed clever company and crosswords in the paper, as well as mysteries and had already read a few of my novels with great interest. She took great care of her appearance and knew her way about the world in a way that, yes, was dominating, but she didn't mind taking the submissive side every once in a while. And, as I knew from our previous night together, could be more than passionate and caring when she did so. She was amazing, and everything I could have ever wanted in a person, though technically, the same could be said about Sherlock, but the man irked me to no degree. Especially when my phone buzzed in my pocket on our way to the cab and it happened to be a text from him.

 _Are you coming?_

 _-S_

I rolled my eyes, and tucked my phone away before climbing in after Irene.

"Everything alright?"

"Hm?"

"You were looking at your phone." She said, watching me.

"Just my neighbor. The one I told you about?" I sighed. "He's trying to drag me into things again, is all. But I've had quite enough rough-housing for one night."

Fingers lightly touched my injured arm and I stiffened, before relaxing as I looked at Irene's fingers gently brushing where a thick bandage lay underneath my shirt.

"I'm assuming that's what happened with your arm then?"

I nodded. "I can't go into specifics, but he seemed to have forgotten to inform me of how dangerous the situation was going to be."

"Knife at a gun fight?" She offered and I snorted.

"More like bare-handed at a gun fight. Sorry about cancelling on you the other night, but that was why. Had a hell of a migraine."

"I can imagine… though…" She snuggled closer, her lips brushing my ear in a tantalizing fashion. "I'm sure we can fix that. Give you a bit of time to…" She tugged at my tie, loosening it from my neck. "… _relax_."

A shiver went down my spine and I leaned in to kiss her, only for my phone to buzz again and a groan to escape my lips as I pulled it out in frustration.

 _This is the address._

 _If I don't see you in twenty minutes,_

 _I'll be using your fridge to store my eyeball experiment._

 _-S_

"Pest." I snipped under my breath, switching my phone to silent and stuffing it back into my pocket as the cab pulled up and Irene and I got out. "Like I care where he puts his eyeballs."

"Eyeballs?" Irene commented, looking amused at my annoyance with Sherlock.

"He's a science nut. My neighbor, that is. Just threatened to use my fridge to store his body parts should I not show up at some circus thing."

"Perhaps you should then." She mused as we walked up the stairs to her door. "I'd hate for you to have to go through that."

Quickly seeing the signs that my date was backing out, I came up behind her and lightly kissed her neck.

"And miss out on dessert? I wouldn't dare." I said softly, catching her eye as she put her key in the lock. "I'd lock myself in a _room_ of body parts if it meant spending a wonderful night with you, Irene."

She smiled as she opened the door. "Well, you're in luck then, Jess. We're about to _be_ the tangle of body parts in my bedroom."

I grinned as her lips crashed into mine, quietly shutting the door behind us as we headed upstairs. Light kisses turned more heated as clothes were stripped and Irene's nailed racked down my back in a motion that made me growl in a way I never had before. But then I stopped, that thought having pushed itself to the forefront of my mind rather quickly and putting a halt to my actions as I looked down at the woman below me on the bed.

"Jess?"

I looked her over, searching her confused expression for something that would give me a clue, before finally allowing the question to spill from my lips.

"Do you love me?"

Her eyes widened and I quickly backtracked before she could speak.

"Ah, n-no, that's not… That's not what I meant. I-I mean… Do you…" I tried to get my thoughts in order before asking a different—albeit similar—question. "Do you see me as one of your customers, or do you see me as… me? A-And not Jess Huttner, the famous lawyer's kid, but Jess Huttner, the bisexual woman who's clever and enjoys painting and writing and fixing flats."

She sighed, pushing me up lightly as my heart broke and I sat back in fear and hurt.

"Jess, I see you as you. The handsome, smart, teasingly ridiculous woman I met drunk out of her mind at that bar."

A sense of relief hit me like a train, but she kept going.

"However, it has been a long time since I'd attempted a serious relationship. So while I do not see you as a customer, I don't quite see you as a long-term partner either." She reached a hand up and cupped my cheek with a soft smile. "Not to say I won't try, but I can't say for certain."

"O-Oh." I managed to get out, looking down as I took in a breath and let it out.

"Do you want to go think about that for a while, Jess?" Irene offered, brushing a hand through my hair like a mother comforting an upset child.

"I-If I could." I croaked, doing what I could to keep myself together and looking her in the eyes. "You'll wait for me?"

She smiled, leaning in and kissing me softly, allowing my eyes to flutter closed before she pulled away. "Yes. I'll wait."

"Thank you." I breathed out, standing and beginning to gather my things; replacing my clothing and heading for the door.

"Don't make me wait too long though, or I'll have to hunt you down, Jess." Irene tossed out and I smiled at that.

"I'll hold you to it, Irene."

I headed back to Baker Street feeling as though I'd made a mistake by asking Irene that, but at the same time feeling comforted that I'd asked before I ended up finding out on my own further down the line. Now, I just had a lot to think about and I knew it'd be hard to when Sherlock and John were undoubtedly back from the circus. _I'll be lucky if I get a moment of sleep._ I sighed, pulling a hand through my hair tiredly as I sent the cab away a block from the flat, needing to get a bit of air before running into the undoubtedly annoyed Sherlock. Problem was, I didn't even make it that far before something knocked me hard upside the head, quickly knocking me out.

* * *

I groaned, grimacing at the pounding of my head and struggling to lift my head from my chest, though the dimness of wherever I was helped with the migraine I was dealing with.

"Christ, what hit me?" I muttered, cringing as even the sound of my own voice sent a wave of pain through my skull.

"'A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket'." An accented voice said, making me attempt to clear my fogged vision enough to see who was talking to me.

"Who's spouting Chinese proverbs?" I slurred out, attempting to look around though with only one eye open.

Whoever had hit me left a nasty gash over my left eye, which had bleed rather profusely while I was unconscious. I finally noticed I wasn't alone with the Chinese woman standing before me, spotting John and a young woman I hadn't seen before also tied to chairs not too far from me.

"John?"

John turned towards me and cursed quietly under his breath, letting me know that whatever this is, I probably wasn't supposed to be involved.

"Dear God, is this because of that stupid case?" I complained. "Getting shot and hit once wasn't good enough for Sherlock, was it? Oh, no. He just had to drag me into this mess a second time." I turned angrily to the Chinese woman in front of me. "I'll have you know, I've had a bad day, so would you mind skipping the overly dramatic dialogue and get to the point?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned down into a frown, annoyed at my attitude, no doubt, but I hardly cared with the amount of pain radiating through my skull at the moment.

"Very clever, Mister Holmes." She said and I frowned.

"Who you callin' Holmes? He's not even here in this mess."

The woman pushed up her sunglasses. "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it."

She reached into John's coat and pulled out his wallet, revealing Sherlock's debit card as well as a check for a decent amount of money and some tickets to the circus.

I frowned. "Yeah, so? That doesn't make him nor me Sherlock. You've got to get your facts straightened out, lady. That twat is not here, because if he was, I'd have castrated him already."

John winced at that and the woman turned to me once more.

"We heard it from your own mouth. 'I'm Sherlock and I think I'm so above the law.'"

"Have you never heard of mocking someone?" I drawled, before leaning my head back with a sigh. "Dear God. I have a concussion and I'm _still_ the smartest idiot in the room."

I heard the familiar click of a weapon and quickly brought my head back down, only to groan as the movement made me feel sick to my stomach for a second; though the gun aimed at my person didn't make me feel much better.

"I am Shan."

" _Y-You're_ Shan?" John breathed out and I sighed.

"She's Shan, I'm Jess, you're John, that's probably your poor date and those are her two grunts the Spider and the other guy. Now that we're all acquainted, _please_ , just state your demands so I can say 'I don't know' and go home." I complained and the woman turned to John.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?"

She aimed the gun at John and my heart stopped for a split second as John let out a whimper, but the gun clicked. Empty.

"It tells you that they're not really trying." She smiled as John let out the breath he'd been holding and attempted to calm himself.

 _I_ , on the other hand, was trying to get ahold of my mouth.

"Dick move, skank."

Her eyes went round to me heatedly, slipping a clip into her weapon and aiming it at me. "Not blank bullets now."

"First off, it was empty, not full of blanks. Secondly, if you wanted me—or, well, Holmes—dead, you would have done it by now." I droned, scared out of my mind with my mouth continuing to insult the armed woman in front of me, but my addled brain making it more than difficult to filter my thoughts before I say them.

A gun shot went off then and I cried out in pain as something ripped through my right calf, myself gritting my teeth as I felt blood slide down to my ankle and John's panicked shout calling my name.

"Jess! God, Jess!"

The woman hardly cared though, priming her pistol again as she spoke harshly. "Do you have it?"

"Have _what_?" I snapped back, glaring heatedly at her as sweat slid down my temple and dropped off my jaw onto my pant leg.

"The treasure."

"We don't know what you're talking about." John insisted, attempting to take attention off me.

"I would prefer to make certain." She said, looking at the two men behind her, who pull off the large black cover in front of us to reveal a large crossbow-esque object.

John sighed deeply, but I hardly cared at the moment, head spinning as my injured mind and body attempted to think up a way out of this mess. _I need to get out. If I can get out of my bonds, I at least have half a chance of getting us out of this._ I felt up alongside the sides of the chair, searching for a splinter that I could use to start cutting through the ropes and being lucky enough to find one. _It will take time though. I need to stall._

"Oi, this treasure thing." I called out, making the woman pause in whatever she was planning on doing to John's girlfriend and the bag of sand by her knife hovering above the crossbow. "It's what Van Coon snatched from your little black market sale, yeah?"

The woman stopped, stepping away from the sand bag as John looked at me in panic.

"Jess, what are you doing?!" He harshly whispered and I would have told him I was buying us time if I didn't know that Shan would hear me.

"You know the treasure?" She asked, though it sounded more like a definite statement.

"Perhaps." I said, working at the bonds on my wrist all the while. "It's small, yeah? Worth a ton of money, owned by some really famous emperor or something." I replied, rambling off random things that could describe more than half the black market items coming in from China.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Where is it? Where is the treasure?"

"Ah, now see, I would totally tell you. Thing is, my mind's a bit scrambled right now and I'm bleeding out rather quickly. Hard to focus like this and with my pals over here being threatened as well."

"You are in no position to make bargains." She snapped and I scoffed; though I felt half as confident as the act I was putting up.

 _Being an ex-lawyer has its perks. I can slip on a pain free, confident mask like putting on a coat._ "Lady… _Shan_ , I think I'm in the _perfect_ position to ask for a compromise. I've got information you want and how hard could it be to just let my friends go on their way—somewhere discrete, seeing as they don't even know where we are to begin with and no cops will believe their story. Set them free, possibly bandage up my leg, and I'll tell you where the treasure is. Simple."

She raised her weapon again. "Or I could just kill you and ask one of your friends."

"Ah, but they haven't the slightest idea where or even _what_ the treasure is. Really, do you think I'd risk telling them? The more people who know, the more dangerous is it, yes? So just let the clueless idiots go, and we can have a nice chat."

She paused, hesitating, before frowning and leveling her gun. "I don't believe you."

I went to respond, very nearly through the rope on my wrists and knowing I could buy myself a bit more time—if not convince her to let John and his girlfriend go—but another voice rang out instead.

"You shouldn't, you know! She's an ex-lawyer. Lying's in her blood."

"And you're _late_ , you twat!" I called out to Sherlock, hearing him floundering around with one of Shan's men behind us.

Shan turned the weapon to where his general location was.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second."

"Well?" Shan questioned as there was a pained grunt from the man attacking Sherlock.

"Well, the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit _you_."

There was a clatter and Shan rushed off somewhere as the tunnel grew darker. I knew I'd run out of time and quickly yanked harshly on my wrists, taking a few painful jabs by the splinter I'd been working with before my bonds broke free and I moved painfully to John's side.

"J-Jess?!"

"Sh." I shushed him, keeping an eye out for Shan's remaining men as I fought with John's bonds. "You're an army guy. Got a knife?"

"Front right pocket."

I reached into his pocket with an apology, before hearing Sherlock struggling over by where John's date was. I cursed, opening the pocket knife and shoving it into John's hands before cautiously limping my way to help Sherlock. The man was struggling as the Spider fellow wrapped his cloth around his neck, but I came over behind him silently and managed a good solid punch to the face before Zhi Zhu could react. He stumbled back, releasing some of the tension in the cloth holding Sherlock, but still managed to stay on his feet and come after me with a knife. I growled, forcing myself to move through the pain in my leg as I ducked and dodged his furious swipes, feeling the blade nick the edge of my right ear at one point and cutting into the front of my shirt. A swift hit to my leg sent me crumpling to the ground with a cry of pain, and I was soon reminded about my black tie as Zhi Zhu grabbed a hold and began to strangle me with it.

Thankfully, John had managed to turn the crossbow at this point and I wasn't out of breath for long before an arrow shot through Zhi Zhu's chest and John rushed to his girlfriend's side as Sherlock rushed to mine.

"Jess. Jess, you alright?"

I coughed and hacked as Sherlock removed the tie from around my neck, him reaching around to check the gash on my head from earlier and the slice in my ear with a grimace as John's girlfriend sobbed.

"Come on. Up you get." Sherlock said, helping me up, but my leg crumbled beneath me and I shook my head.

"C-Can't. I can't put any more weight on it." I bit out through clenched teeth.

"What? Why not?"

"She was shot, Sherlock." John explained. "We need to get her to the hospital."

I couldn't read the expression on Sherlock's face in that moment as he wrapped an arm around my waist and let me lean most of my weight against him as we made our way out of the building and called the police. He soon left me in the care of the paramedics, who insists I stay overnight at the hospital, but I adamantly refused. They'd bandaged my leg and head well enough and said I had gotten lucky with only a flesh wound and a concussion, but I wasn't about to risk my parents raining down on me upon them being notified I was in the hospital. They were still pressing it on me and I was only saved by Sherlock coming by.

"Perfect. Sherlock, tell them! Tell them I'm perfectly fine going home where a doctor can look after me."

Sherlock didn't even blink before turning to the stubborn paramedic. "We have a professional living with us who is perfectly capable of keeping her off her leg as well as making sure any medical treatment she requires is taken care of. Now please, excuse us."

Sherlock once again looped his arm under mine and assisted me out of the ambulance and to the cab awaiting us with John and his girlfriend already having gone home. I relaxed into the seat of the taxi with a sigh, closing my eyes once the taxi had driven away.

"I'm… sorry." Sherlock said, surprising me and making me open an eye to look at him in confusion.

"What?"

He frowned. "You heard me. I'm not repeating it."

"Yeah, I know that bit, but what are you apologizing for?" I questioned and his eyes drifted down to my leg briefly, making me roll my eyes and smack him on the arm. "Stop it. That's not your fault."

"It is. If I hadn't demanded you join us, then—"

"Then I wouldn't have had any fun. Now shut up, because you weren't the idiot Chinese woman holding the gun _nor_ were you big old stupid me, running my mouth and earning said bullet to the leg."

"You had a concussion." He argued.

"From yet another moron who hit me upside the head."

"Which wouldn't have happened if I hadn't told you to join us."

"Which I wouldn't have done either way. I was on my way home because I had something to think about concerning my…" I paused attempting to think up a word for what Irene and I had—or didn't have, in any case. "…partner."

He glanced at me as I frowned at the seat in front of me. "Things not going well?"

"Oh, no. Going great. It's just… doubts. My last girlfriend was… not the best and cheated on me and I don't want this one to be the same. Her job's a bit… different, but I'm willing to look past that, but she's not sure about long-term relationships and I need to figure out if that's what I want right now or not. Though I don't know why I'm telling you this. You hardly care."

Sherlock simply hummed, going quiet for a bit before speaking up again. "What you did, back in the tunnel… it was very clever."

"What? You mean doing what every lawyer does and lie my ass off?" I chuckled, stopping when the action made my head ache. "Please. I made a living doing that."

"Still. Under pressure, loaded weapon aimed your way, friends being threatened and in pain. Not everyone could have bluffed their way out of that and you nearly did."

"No. I nearly bluffed John and his girlfriend's way out of that. I was just buying time in the hopes that I could get loose and possibly take out one or two of them and let those two escape."

"Bravery is another word for stupidity." Sherlock grunted and I scoffed.

"Says the man who tracked us down and attempted to do the same thing."

" _I_ didn't get shot, strangled, and attacked by a knife wielding assassin."

"No. You just got strangled by said assassin and were _asking_ to be shot."

We both looked at one another and chuckled, relaxing marginally after our tense evening.

"So, how did you know so much about the treasure?"

"I told you, I was bluffing. I just took what you said and what was obvious and put them together. Half the black market items in China were owned by emperors and are worth a lot. And you mentioned that they were looking for something stolen from them. I simply rattled off one of the victims' names in the hopes they still didn't know who took it, and assumed that it would have been a small item in order to get past them in the first place. Like I said, lawyer. I just had to make them believe I knew what I was talking about long enough to get free and give John a chance at getting out. You showing up was just lucky."

"And yet you waste your time with writing fiction and frivolous activities instead of using that talent for something better." He complained and I rolled my eyes.

"You know, maybe I did use to have fun as a lawyer and using those… talents back then, but I lost a lot of good friends that way, became an outcast in school, and dragged up so much drama with my own family that moving away and becoming boring was the best adventure I could possibly get. I needed a break, Sherlock, and this was it."

"…and now?" He asked hopefully and I peered an eye open as we pulled up to Baker Street.

"Well, so long as getting shot and hit upside the head doesn't become the normal thing, I suppose I am willing to join you on an adventure or two."

He grinned, poking his head back into the car as he held out a hand to help me. "Excellent."

"No eyeballs in my fridge though." I quipped, taking his hand and soon leaning against him to get helped up the steps into their flat—which Sherlock insisted we'd be sharing until my leg was better.

"Then I'll need the keys to your flat." He rattled off in amusement. "I'm too lazy to pick the lock a second time."

"God, you really are a pain in the ass, aren't you?"

"Hm." He chuckled shortly as I shook my head, silently thinking that I could get used to this kind of life so long as Sherlock was around to keep it interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

_Damn, Sherlock._ I scowled, hearing him and John arguing upstairs after Sherlock had begun to play screeching notes on his violin. I had been two seconds from going up there myself if it wasn't for my leg. It had been a while since I'd been shot, but—though the wound had healed and scared—the aches still bothered me and physical therapy could only help so much when it came to getting around. _I can walk, but I limp pretty bad now._ I frowned at the thought, stubbornly standing from the couch and limping over to the kitchen for a drink. I'd been banned from attempting to fix up my flat more after the incident and Sherlock had offered to have people come over and do it for me, as a sort of repayment for what happened, but I stubbornly refused. Fixing this flat had become less of a job and more of a… pet project. It was mine and I was determined to get it all set up on my own. That being said, Sherlock complained constantly while I was stuck staying with them while my injury healed enough for me to freely navigate the stairs. As soon as I could, I stayed in my own flat downstairs, but they continued to place rules on me. One of which I was thinking about now.

 _Can't leave the flat until they're certain I won't collapse somewhere. John does all the shopping, Mrs. Hudson cleans, but I can't even go out and visit Irene._ I gulped down some of my drink, eyes watering at the burn briefly as I hobbled to the couch and plopped down with a sigh. _I want to tell her how I feel about before. I'm determined to try and get her to love me as well. I won't let her go easily. I'll make it work and I'm fine with a fling for right now, even if it doesn't work. I won't be happy if it doesn't, but…_ I brought a hand to my mouth.

"Damn, I've really fallen for her, haven't I?" I muttered to myself, setting down my drink and standing. "Screw it. I'm not going to let them stop me from telling her." I said determinedly, moving to grab my coat and put it on and walking out of my flat to the door.

I paused, glancing upstairs, but still hearing the two shouting at each other I went and opened the door. Needless to say, I was surprised to find the very woman I was about to go to standing there.

"I-Irene?"

She smirked mischievously at me. "I did tell you I'd hunt you down if you took too long, dear."

The sound of shattering glass came from overhead and she raised a brow as I hurriedly shuffled her inside.

"Sorry. Neighbors are arguing." I explained simply. "They should be nearly finished by now. We better hurry."

"Oh, sneaking about behind their backs then?" She hummed, snaking her arms around my neck as we entered the small hallway leading towards my flat. "How did you know I was a fan of secret rendezvous?"

I growled deep in my throat, wanting nothing more than to take her right here if it weren't for the noisy duo upstairs and Mrs. Hudson in her own flat a few feet away. Irene smirked, undoubtedly sensing that and quickly taking advantage of it by trailing soft kisses up my neck.

"Well?" She whispered against my skin as we both heard the door upstairs slam shut.

I smothered her in a heated kiss briefly, smirking back. "Come on."

I snuck her swiftly into my flat and she didn't give me a chance to say a word before her lips were on mine and we were soon tugging at each other's clothes. I paused in my assault, allowing her hands to roam over my back as we looked at one another.

"I take it this is your answer." She hummed, voice soft as she pressed short kisses to my lips and jaw.

"I love you." I murmured in return, finally getting a chance to explain myself. "And I don't care that you're not interested in long term. I'll make _sure_ you stay with me."

"Oh, will you now?" She chuckled softly.

"Most definitely." I breathed into her ear. "You're mine and I won't let anyone take you away from me."

"Well then, you better get started." She said, yanking my hair and forcing my head back away from her ear with a wicked smirk. "Because I'm not going down easily."

 _Dominatrix is right._ I mused with another smirk. _But damn it all, I_ love _it._

* * *

Sherlock stared straight ahead, gun in hand aimed at the wall above the couch where a spray painted smiley face smirked mockingly at him. One shot, then two. He was bored. Terribly bored. The last case he did was even more boring. The idiot had the grammar of a five-year-old and he didn't have the patience to keep dealing with the man any longer than he had. _A trip wasted_. He thought with a scowl. _Not only that, but it's quiet. Far too quiet. Where's Jess? Surely she should have come up here by now._ That's when his ears picked up something. Footsteps in the basement flat. Footsteps that weren't just Jess's. He sat up and frowned, standing and moving towards the door as those steps made their way to the front door. He too, left his flat, near silently to see who it was Jess had snuck in and questioning how she'd done so without his knowledge. _Earlier today then, while John was arguing with me, most likely._

He moved to the top of the stairs, clicking his tongue quietly at having missed sight of Jess's guest, though a hot rush of anger filled his chest as the woman passionately kissing Jess turned away without facing him to leave.

 _Why am I angry?_ He thought to himself, glaring down at Jess as she stared longingly after the leaving figure. _Because she snuck in her newest lover right under our noses?_ He turned away angrily, storming back into his flat and slamming the door behind him before returning to his previous seat and firing off multiple shots more at the smiley face mocking him from the wall. He then turned to glare at the paint, firing off another shot in the center. As he fired off yet another shot though, he heard John's angry steps come up from downstairs where he'd—at some point—returned home.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

"Bored." Sherlock scowled, half lying to his flat mate.

"What?"

"Bored!" He sprung up out of his chair and switched hands as John covered his ears and took a step back. "Bored! Bored."

He then fired off a shot and twisted his arm behind his back to fire off another. He begrudgingly handed the weapon to John then, allowing him to dismantle it and shut it back into the drawer of the desk he kept it in.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them. Did you happen to run into Jess on your way up?"

"What? No. She hasn't left her flat. And why are you taking it out on the wall?"

"Ah, the wall had it coming." Sherlock replied, running his fingers over the smiling face before flicking them away and flopping back onto the couch. "And she had a _friend_ over."

"Who, Jess?" John questioned and Sherlock glared at him.

"Yes, Jess. Who else?" He snapped. "Her newest lover, no doubt. Che."

John raised a brow at him, removing his coat and placing it in his chair. "You sound upset."

"Not upset. Aggravated." He corrected. "How am I supposed to show her how she's wasting her talents if she's too busy looking at some _woman_?"

John rolled his eyes, not wanting to go into Sherlock's apparent jealousy when the man was already 'aggravated' by a number of things. "What about that Russian case?"

"Belarus." He corrected. "Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time."

"Ah, shame." John said sarcastically, moving into the kitchen and tossing his hands up at the mess of beakers Sherlock had left on the table since his absence. _Nothing I can do about it without upsetting him._ "Anything in? I'm starving."

Sherlock didn't bother warning John about what was in the fridge. He was too annoyed at these sudden feelings about Jess and her lover.

"Oh—" John cut himself off, shutting the fridge he'd just opened only to reopen it again and make sure he saw what he thought he did. "It's a head… A severed head."

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock grumbled.

"There's a head in the fridge."

"Yes."

"A _bloody_ head!"

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it? Jess being in her flat at all times made it impossible to store it there. You don't mind, do you? I got it from Bart's morgue." Sherlock sucked in a breath, pushing away the image of Jess kissing that woman that had popped up into his head. "I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

He waved a hand at John's laptop, distracting the man for now so he wouldn't have to hear the nagging.

"Yeah, uh, yes." John said, giving one last look at the kitchen before settling himself down in Sherlock's chair this time.

"'A Study in Pink,' nice."

"Well, you know, a pink lady, a pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

Sherlock picked up the magazine resting on the table. "Um, no."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

Sherlock lower the magazine and frowned at him. "Flattered? 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'" He quoted.

"Now hold on a minute. I didn't mean that in a—"

Sherlock interrupted him. "Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a _nice_ way?" He turned away, annoyed. "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister or who's sleeping with who." He scowled at this thought; Jess popping into his head once more.

"Whether the Earth goes round the Sun." John muttered, though not quietly enough to miss Sherlock's excellent hearing.

"Not that again. It's not _important_."

"Not impor…" John shifted to face Sherlock. "It's primary school stuff. _How_ can you not know that?"

Sherlock pressed his hands to his eyes. "Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"'Deleted it'?"

"Listen." Sherlock sat up, hoping to explain his mental processes in a way John could understand, pointing at his head. "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really_ useful. Ordinary fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. Just look at Jess! All that potential wasted on the time it takes plaster to dry or how to repair a kitchen sink. All that useless information makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

John tried—really, he did—but just couldn't understand. "But it's the solar system!"

Sherlock buried his head in his hands in frustration. "Oh, hell! What does that _matter_?! So we go round the Sun! if we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear—" He joked, waving his hands about. "—it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots." He ruffled his hair and glared at John, frustration at his thick head and Jess's own idiotic ways reaching its peak. "Put _that_ in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

He thrust himself back onto the couch with his back facing John, ending the conversation. He didn't expect John to get up and head for the door though, and turned around in confusion.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I need some air." John replied shortly and Sherlock ignored the noise of him bumping into Mrs. Hudson on the stairs and rolled back over; pouting.

 _He doesn't understand. And Jess probably wouldn't either. Why do I even bother?_

"Ooh-hoo." Mrs. Hudson chimed, knocking on his door. "You two have a little domestic?"

Sherlock rolled off the couch and angrily stepped over his coffee table to the window to watch John head out.

"Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more." Mrs. Hudson said quietly as she set the groceries on the small space available on the kitchen table; Sherlock pulling back the curtain to see John crossing the street.

"Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful." He grimaced. "Isn't it _hateful_?"

"Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up." She chuckled, heading towards the door.

"Can't come too soon." Sherlock muttered, not seeing she'd stopped.

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall?!"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at that as she stormed out.

"I'm putting this on your rent, young man. I'll have Jess patch it up later once her leg's a bit better. I hear her muttering under her breath sometimes about her leg. Poor dear. This chilly weather's not good for it."

Sherlock ignored her as she moved downstairs, instead moving to the center of the room and grinning at the mocking face on the wall before sighing and turning away. Then, the explosion hit and everything went dark.

* * *

I groaned, aching terribly after whatever had knocked me to the ground while limping through my flat. My ears were ringing, making it impossible to hear the footsteps rushing down the upper stairs and I slowly went to roll onto my back only to let out a quick cry of pain and roll back onto my stomach. I took in deep breaths, not appreciating the sharp pain that was going through my leg and cursing under my breath as my hearing slowly returned. Just in time to hear the door slam open and Sherlock's voice reaching my ears.

"Are you alright? Can you stand?"

"I-I'll need help." I admitted begrudgingly. "And my leg is killing me."

A hand wrapped around my upper arm and helped lift me to my feet; Sherlock hanging onto me for a moment before depositing me onto the couch.

"Where does your leg hurt?"

"Where do you think?" I grumbled. "What happened?"

"Explosion across the street. Police and paramedics are already on their way, undoubtedly." He replied, making me wince as he touched near my knee. "I'll get some ice."

I scowled, but allowed him to grab the ice, gritting my teeth and forcing through the aching my leg brought upon holding the ice pack to it. It was slow going and I was slightly surprised when Sherlock patiently waited instead of leaving me on my own. I winced at seeing the mess of glass scattered around my flat. _That's one thing I'm thankful for. There's no small personal items in my flat yet. Though I'm pissed, nonetheless._

"I just put in those damn windows." I complained as Sherlock swept up some of the glass on the ground.

"I'll get my brother to pay for replacements."

I raised a brow at him, lying down on the couch so I could elevate my leg. "Why would he do that for me?"

Sherlock smirked. "I'll claim it was for troubling you before."

I snorted. "I'll accept that. Thanks."

He finished in silence and the police came up eventually to question us before departing and he turned to me then.

"You brought someone over earlier."

I immediately frowned. "Yeah, so what? You guys have had me cooped up in here for weeks. You should be happy I didn't leave to see her. I was about to if she hadn't shown up."

He frowned, moving to a chair. "I thought you were done with her."

"No. We were having a small disagreement on some things. She's not sure about commitment and I needed to think about whether I would continue to pursue her knowing that. And I decided I would, but with you lot cooping me up in here, I didn't have a way to tell her."

"Text her."

"I'm not going to text her. It's not right." I argued and he gave me a strange look. "What?"

"Why not? It's simpler to text her, isn't it?"

I was a bit surprised at that response, opening my mouth to get angry with him only to close it. _He's serious._

"No, it's…" _How to explain…_ "It's not about it being easier to do. It's just something I felt was important enough to tell her in person. It makes what you're saying more personal. Like… say I broke your violin."

He glared and I rolled my eyes.

" _Hypothetically_." I pressed and he stopped glaring though was still cautious. "If I hypothetically broke your violin on accident, would you rather find out via text? A quick 'Oops, broke your violin. My bad.' Or would you rather I came to you in person and explained what happened to you face-to-face."

He furrowed his brows in thought, bringing his steepled hands up to his mouth. "I… see."

I nodded, glad he understood. "It's the same thing with this. I needed to tell her in person that I'm willing to still love her if she'd have me and, thankfully, she was. She had some work this evening though, so she didn't stay long. And my leg was acting up." I gave him a look then, catching his scowl. "And it won't happen often, by the way. I'd rather go to her place than do anything here, so there's nothing for you to worry about. I won't even make you meet her. I'm sure you'd rather avoid the trouble and I'd rather avoid it as well."

" _Fine_." He snipped and I sighed, closing my eyes as he left my flat and returned upstairs.

* * *

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" John called up the stairs to the flat, worry and concern filling him and completely blocking out the fact that there was another friend he needed to check on in the basement flat.

Yet when he walked in, he had to suppress the urge to smack the man seated across from his brother; fingers on his violin letting out a 'twang'.

"John." The man said calmly without a scratch on him.

"I saw it on the tele. Are you okay?" John asked nonetheless.

"Hm? What?" Sherlock looked around, remembering then that there had been an explosion. "Yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." He hummed, still plucking at the strings before he lifted his gaze to Mycroft. "I can't."

"'Can't'?" His brother questioned, not believing a word he said.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

John looked at him in disbelief, knowing for a fact that Sherlock didn't have a case other than the identity of whoever Jess's new lover was.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Mycroft pressed and Sherlock made one of his notes a little stronger before changing the subject.

"How's the diet?"

" _Fine_." Mycroft pressed and then turned to the other occupant in the room. "Perhaps _you_ can get through to him, John."

"What?" John asked, not too sure what they were talking about as he scanned the flat for damages.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't _you_ investigate it?" Sherlock snipped at his brother's insult and Mycroft raised a curious brow.

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time—not with the Korean elections so…" He trailed off before he could give away too much and smiled innocently. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this, it requires…" He grimaced. " _…legwork._ " He then turned a smirk in Sherlock's direction. "Though you seem in a foul mood today, Sherlock. Your neighbor downstairs troubling you?"

Sherlock glared at his brother before catching sight of John rubbing his neck and swiftly latched onto that. "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock." Mycroft corrected as he checked the time. "It was the sofa."

Sherlock looked John up and down, begrudgingly admitting his error. "Oh, yes. Of course."

"How…" John shook his head, sitting down on the coffee table. "Oh, never mind."

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals." Mycroft commented. "Your neighbor downstairs probably dislikes his dragging her around. What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored." John commented instead, gesturing towards the door and looking at Sherlock. "Is she alright, by the way?"

"Fine. She was knocked down by the blast, but nothing more than bumps and bruises. Her leg was bothering her, apparently." Sherlock said shortly, eyebrows knotted in annoyance.

 _He's still upset about her lover._ John concluded, before Mycroft stood and passed a folder to him, upon Sherlock not accepting it as he prepped his bow for playing.

"Andrew West. Known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft said and John hesitated before taking the folder. "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" john asked.

"Seems the logical assumption."

"But?"

Mycroft raised a brow. "'But'?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John concluded, earning a short chuckle and smile from Sherlock as Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother's childishness.

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce-Partington Program, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

John snickered. "That wasn't very clever."

"It's not the only copy." Mycroft countered, not very pleased about how Sherlock was rubbing off on his companion. "But it _is_ secret and missing."

"Top secret?" John asked and Mycroft agreed.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft concluded, turning to Sherlock. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock took in a slow breath at his brother's threat and placed his violin on his shoulder, giving him a look. "I'd like to see you try."

Mycroft leaned over a bit. "Think it over." He then turned and went over to John to shake his hand. "Goodbye, John. Say goodbye to your friend downstairs for me. And let her know that any medical bills for her leg will be taken care of by myself, since the injury was caused by my brother's negligence."

Sherlock huffed, the bow of his violin playing a few screeching notes of annoyance as Mycroft left; Sherlock only stopping once the man was gone and a loud 'thump' came from downstairs. Sherlock smirked, silently glad he'd woken up the woman from her catnap on her couch; she, undoubtedly, having fallen off and onto the floor in the process. John didn't seem to notice though, staring at Sherlock in slight amusement.

"Why'd you lie?" He asked, giving him a look. "You've got nothing on. Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock shook his head in a shrug.

"Oh. Nice. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." John commented, a bit annoyed, but also a little pleased Sherlock had finally given away something about himself.

"Oh, why don't you go check up on Jess?" Sherlock drawled in annoyance and John smirked in success as he stood.

"Alright. But you can't tell me you're not jealous of her newest lover."

Sherlock scowled, playing a few more screeching notes in annoyance, but saying nothing of John's accusation as he headed downstairs to check on their neighbor.

* * *

I cursed under my breath as I rubbed at my aching leg, glaring at the ceiling where Sherlock's annoying violin had disturbed my nap. _Did it on purpose too, the jerk. Why's he so caught up on Irene? I already said I wouldn't bug him about it._ There was a knock on my door then and it opened to reveal a smirking Mrs. Hudson.

"You have a visitor." She told me and my eyes widened as Irene sauntered in—yet again surprising me with another visit.

"I-Irene." I stuttered out, standing immediately and wincing briefly at the pain in my leg before attempting to usher Mrs. Hudson out with pink cheeks of embarrassment. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, no, dear. It's fine. Just try to keep it down." She smiled, making my cheeks go darker before she left and Irene chuckled.

"Did I embarrass you, Jess?" She asked, running a hand down my arm as I gave her a nervous smile.

"A bit, yeah. That was my landlady, though anything's better than being caught by my neighbor." I muttered, before shaking my head and getting to the point. "Why are you here, Irene? I thought you were going back to work last night."

"I did." She hummed, sauntering towards the couch and looking at the broken windows covered with cardboard that I winced at. "Then I saw on the tele what happened. I had to come by and make sure you were alright, of course."

"I'm fine, really." I pressed, attempting to move towards her, but cringing and grabbing at my leg in pain. "Well, mostly. My leg's giving me trouble. I was knocked down when the blast hit."

"I'm sorry." She apologized sincerely, moving to my side and curling around me in support. "I suppose things are off for later then?"

"Later?" I questioned and that mischievous smirk came to her eyes.

"We're having dinner, aren't we?"

The innuendo was quick to catch my attention and the pain in my leg was briefly forgotten.

"Well, now, why wait?" I mused, kissing her lips softly and trailing my hands up her smooth back. "Is it my turn to lead this time?"

"Can you handle it?" She challenged and I smirked against the skin of her neck.

"Oh, I'm sure I can take care of _all_ your guilty pleasures, sweetheart."

We were momentarily distracted though when a pounding came to my door and I dropped my head on her shoulder with a groan.

"Can't get a _damn_ moment of peace, can I?" I complained. "I'm going to kill my neighbors."

"Now, now." She lightly chided me. "Shoo them off politely and I might just surprise you."

I grumbled in my throat, both at the prospect of what her surprise was and in annoyance that I was letting her bully me into answering the door and not get angry with my neighbor. I pulled away from her though, watching her firm backside sashay its way into my bedroom, before turning to the door and answering it. John stood there and my previous anger melted away. _At least it's not Sherlock._

"Hello, John. Can I help you?"

"Oh, well, I was just coming to check up on you. The explosion and all."

I hummed. "Hm, that's right. I forgot you and Sherlock had a tiff yesterday. Did you sleep elsewhere then?"

He nodded. "At Sarah's. On her sofa."

"Well, you can't expect things to go perfectly after what happened with the Chinese circus." I told him, knowing he didn't have the best time sleeping on the sofa and much less with Sarah.

"Yeah… Your leg doing okay though? Sherlock mentioned it was bothering you."

"It's just hurting a bit." I complained lightly, not wanting John to have to check it with my guest in the other room. "I'll take something for it later."

"You sure?" He questioned, gesturing towards it. "I can check it if you want. You might have damaged the muscle."

"Ah, no." I shook my head. "See, I'm a bit busy and—"

I was cut off as a soft pair of arms wrapped around my neck and I turned a vibrant pink as I turned to see a fully nude Irene pressing herself up against my side; just out of sight of John. I was frozen for a moment, unable to take my eyes off my girlfriend, before I remembered that John was still standing just outside and could plainly see the pale, manicured hands wrapped around my neck.

"A-Ah…"

I wasn't sure what to say, but John's pink cheeks gave away the fact that he too, was a bit tongue-tied. A kiss from Irene's red-lipstick stained lips pressing itself to the pulse point in my neck drew my thoughts together in a quick Sherlock-esque manner.

"Right. Yes. Bit busy. Sorry. I would, but then again, maybe later. Not now. Definitely not. So um, I'll see you later, John. Yeah?"

"S-Sure." He stuttered out and I quickly closed the door before turning and locking lips with my overly-eager girlfriend; losing myself in her beauty for the umpteenth time.


End file.
